


Potter's Recovery

by decoytardis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, F/M, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley Friendship, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-01-23 10:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12505312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decoytardis/pseuds/decoytardis
Summary: Everyone is still in mourning after the Battle of Hogwarts.  But life has to go on.  Harry, Ron and Hermione have been offered Auror positions,  but also have been invited to go back to Hogwarts to formally finish their N.E.W.T.s.  Will things ever go back to normal?  And why does Draco Malfoy continue to show up at everything?





	1. Mourning

  1. Mourning



It was so cruel.  A life of 19 years spending every second with another person and now Fred was all alone in death.  Earlier that week had been the memorial for Remus and Tonks, and that had been nearly unbearable.  But now…George still looked pallid and sick with loss.  Harry looked at the rest of the Weasleys and had wished now more than ever that he could have shielded them from their loss.  Percy looked like he had been sick as well, and Molly, though she had no more tears left after days and days of weeping, still looked like she might start again at any second.  Ginny had been unusually quiet since the Battle and her face was swollen by stinging tears, and Ron alternated between angry outbursts and complete, mournful silence.  Arthur gave up trying to be strong some time ago, and the echoes of his sobs reverberated in the chapel.  Bill tried to comfort Arthur while Fleur kept a steady hand on his back for reassurance, but there were tears in both their eyes as well.  Charlie nervously fidgeted with the many rings he kept on his fingers, trying not to cry.

            In the end, it was decided that Professor Flitwick would give the eulogy.  It felt too cruel to ask that of Professor McGonagall, after she had given so many for her fallen students and friends.  Harry, sitting next to her, could see that her face was blank, but her hand balled up a handkerchief tightly in her fist. And Lee Jordan, being the twins’ best friend, had yet to say a word since seeing Fred’s body after the Battle.  He stuck to George like glue and almost acted as a shield from everyone else.  Nobody tried to interfere.  It just was.

            The Charms professor did his best to recall fond memories of Fred.  There were many, but they all were overshadowed by the fact that it was always Fred and George together and that would never happen again.

            As for Harry, his eyes burned from tears as well and he was shaking.  The weight of every single casualty was on his shoulders.  Somewhere in his head, he knew that it couldn’t be, that the Battle was not his fault, that any other Chosen One or Boy Who Lived would not be blamed for a war that started before he even was born.  That lives would have been lost even if he never became involved with the fight against Voldemort.  But he knew all of those people.  They took up the cause in part because of him.  And that’s why he attended every single one of their funerals. 

            Harry Potter had defeated the darkest wizard of all time, and that wasn’t enough to assuage the guilt.  He barely heard a word Flitwick said and just waited for the funeral to be over.

            The worst part had been the last, when all of the family’s friends and loved ones went to express their sympathies.  The twins were well-liked, and the place had been packed.  George refused to talk to any of them at all, and Harry had gone to sit with him and in a back room of the chapel away from the crowd.  He didn’t try to talk.  They were all too exhausted anyway. 

            It seemed like several hours later when the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione came into the room to announce that they were going back to the Burrow.  Ron was seething.

            “The nerve of some people!  Showing up here!  We should have called the Aurors!”

            “You didn’t even know he was here until the end, Ron,” Hermione said softly.  She had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was frizzier than normal.  Helping Ron through the last few days plus dealing with her own feelings had left her little energy to focus on anything else.

            “That doesn’t make it right!  That spineless excuse for a wizard had no right to be here after what he’s put our family through!” Ron roared, his face turning redder by the second.

            Harry raised an eyebrow.  “Wait…who…?”

            “Draco Malfoy,” Ron growled.

            Now it was Harry’s turn to be angry. “When did he…?”

            “It must have been at the last minute.  He probably knew that people would not want to see him here,” Hermione answered tiredly.  “He apparated as soon as he got outside.”

            Harry’s chest burned with anger for a few seconds before exhaustion took over again.  Besides, it would be wrong to start shouting in front of the Weasleys right now when all they really needed was some time with each other.  What good would it do anyway?

            Even as everyone settled down for the night at the Burrow (Harry sleeping on the floor of Ron’s room and Ron and Hermione sharing the bed), Harry couldn’t stop thinking about possible reasons why Malfoy would show up. 

“ _Did Malfoy come just to sneer in the faces of the mourning_?” he pondered for a while.  But somehow, even though sneering seemed to be a natural Malfoy gift, he didn’t think that that was why Draco was there.  Harry had seen Draco’s face when Goyle was lost in the fiendfyre.  That was loss.  Draco Malfoy was capable of feeling for other people. 

So why would Draco risk his own safety to attend the funeral of someone whose entire family and circle of friends despised him?  It couldn’t be some kind of publicity stunt.  Ever since the Battle, Malfoy’s every move was watched by everyone from the Aurors to the Daily Prophet.  Anyone who consumed any Wizarding World media knew that Lucius Malfoy was in Azkaban and that Narcissa was under house arrest.  Draco’s fate still remained up in the air.  His trial was the day after next.  So obviously Draco felt a pressing need to be there that surpassed the risk of being publicly smeared or even physically harmed.  Could it have been remorse?  Harry grappled with that thought until he fell into an exhausted, thankfully dreamless, sleep.


	2. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Weasleys have some concerns about Harry going to Draco Malfoy's trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is exactly what it says on the tin.

2\. Decisions

 

“I’m going tomorrow,” Harry declared blankly over the breakfast table.

Flashes of anger and worry appeared on several of the Weasleys’ faces.  They had all known that Harry had received a request to act as a witness at Draco’s trial, but nobody had talked about it otherwise.

Ron turned bright red but didn’t say anything.  Instead he just left the table, Hermione following close behind.  Moments later, yelling could be heard from way up in Ron’s room.  Harry made mental plans to sleep in the living room that night. 

Nobody seemed to have an appetite after that.  And it was good that George had stayed in his old room that morning, because the tension was so high.  But Harry stayed in the kitchen to help Molly with the dishes.  Ginny leaned against the wall and Arthur stayed in his seat.

“Harry, dear, I know you want to be brave.  I know you feel a duty to do what’s right, but you’re still just a boy.  A boy who has endured more than most any other your age.  You shouldn’t have to do this,” Molly pleaded.

Arthur folded his hands and looked up at Harry.  “You know if you do this, people will try to twist your words just as they did at your hearing.  It won’t matter that you slayed Voldemort.  They’ll try to manipulate everyone into thinking that you’re mental, or too young to process what happened, or that your ego is shading your judgment.”

Harry took a breath.  “I know.  And…I don’t want to make any of you worry or hate me or think I’m turning my back on you.  Please don’t think that.  I have to do this.  Draco Malfoy is just as young as I am.  He wasn’t raised by you or anyone like you.  He tormented me and your children for years.  I’m not condoning that.  I just…I don’t think he knew anything different.  Even his friends at school were more like bodyguards he bullied almost as much as he bullied us.  His life as he knew it is already ruined.  I just don’t think he should spend it in Azkaban.”

Ginny was shaking, but she nodded in understanding.  Harry was a bit shocked. 

“I know a little something about being manipulated by dark wizards at a young age,” she said softly, arms curling around herself.  “I’ll go with you, if you need me to.  Mum, Dad, for as long as you’ve known Harry, you must have learned that once he puts his mind into something, it’s nearly impossible to stop him.  He needs to do this.  It’ll only do more harm if you don’t let him.”

Harry felt a surge of affection for Ginny and, had her parents not been in the room, he probably would have kissed her.  Or, maybe not.  They hadn’t kissed since before the Battle.  It almost felt wrong to try to do so afterwards, between all the death and destruction and exhaustion and general feeling of not knowing where to go from there.  Instead he dried off his hands and went in for a hug.  He whispered a sincere thank you, though he knew that words couldn’t properly express his gratitude.  It had to be hard for her to say what she did.  But, like him, once she made up her mind, there was no changing it.

They would apparate to the Ministry the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments please! I know this chapter is transitional and kind of short, but I would like to know if you like where it's going.


	3. The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn what happens at Draco's trial. Also some interesting bits about what other news is happening in the Wizarding World.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I had more chapters written weeks ago but I always felt like I needed to rewrite this third chapter before going on. Anyway, I thought this was a good way to write the trial. For those who may have difficulty seeing and reading the jpeg images, I have written the "most important" article in normal format.

3\. The Trial

Title Page Article of the Daily Prophet reads:

**Malfoy Heir Dodges Imprisonment**

On August 1st it was ruled that Draco Malfoy (18), son of convicted Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, will not be serving time in Azkaban. 

Several charges including murder and attempted murder have been dropped due to the unexpected support and testimony from none other than Harry Potter himself.

Mr. Potter argued with a surprising fierceness that Draco Malfoy had only participated in Death Eater activities for fear of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s wrath upon his family as well as himself.

“People keep saying that they would have never served Voldemort in any capacity,” Potter said, “But do you know what happened to those who resisted?  They were killed without a second thought.  How do you expect a teenager not to do what is needed for the survival of his family and himself?  If I had my parents in my life, don’t you think I would have done anything to keep them alive? The truth is, none of you know how hard it was to resist Voldemort face to face.  But I do.  So do not for one second say you would _(continued page 2)_

 _(continued from page 1)_ have done the ‘good’ thing when faced with your and your loved ones’ mortality.” 

Draco Malfoy’s charges of the murder of Vincent Crabbe and attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore among other charges already known to be fraudulent have been dropped.

However, Mr. Malfoy has been convicted of cursing a necklace that harmed former Gryffindor chaser Katie Bell.  As Malfoy was under 17 at that time, he was charged as a minor.

Malfoy will be wearing a tracker and only shall be allowed to travel to Ministry-approved locations.  The Malfoy family has refused to make a statement.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool, huh? If you want to know how I was able to make this, I used a template I found here: http://creativeedtech.weebly.com/templates.html 
> 
> All design credit goes to that creator.


	4. Grimmauld Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinted at in the previous chapter, Harry realizes he has another thing to decide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I had other chapters written already

4\. Grimmauld Place

 

After the trial, Harry had decided not to overstay his welcome at the Burrow any more, and moved into Grimmauld Place, after promising to visit every weekend.  He felt like the move would be good for all of them.  Nobody objected, either.

The place was still relatively the same as when he’d last been there with Ron and Hermione, but he’d have to clean it again.  Kreacher was nowhere to be found, but that didn’t bother Harry.  Though they had come to a kind of understanding, Kreacher was too elderly to properly do housework, and Harry wanted to do all the cleaning on his own without any extra help.  Perhaps in the long run he’d redecorate the place into something less austere, but cleaning would do a lot to help the atmosphere. 

The very first thing he’d done was to put a permanent silencing charm on the horrid portrait of Mrs. Black, with the intention of eventually taking it down and possibly destroying it once he could discover a countercharm powerful enough to unstick it from the wall. 

Harry’s attempts to clean the house were fair, and he was no stranger to hard work, but it would take a very long time for one person to do.  His arsenal of cleaning spells was a bit lacking and he’d often resorted to doing things the muggle way.  He’d have to get to Flourish and Blott’s soon to find a book on household spells.  Or…visit the library…no.

Harry glanced over at the letter laying on his bedroom’s desk.  He’d received it a few days before, just after he moved in.

 

Mr. Potter,

 

Forgive me for owling this letter so soon after recent tragic events, but is my duty as Headmistress of Hogwarts to ask you if you would like to return to the school to complete your formal magical education.  As much as I would like you to return, I do not wish to pressure you in this matter.  You are an adult and I do not wish to make you suffer by forcing you to come back to the place of such tragedy.  Your friends Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger will also receive letters asking the same question.  Indeed, others will also be asked if they want to return for an eighth year as well.  I only ask that if you do choose to return, that you might owl me back a reply by August 1st for the proper preparations to take place. 

 

On a personal note, Mr. Potter, I wish to tell you that you may contact me at any time for any reason. 

 

                                                                      With warm regards,

                                                                                Minerva McGonagall

 

            Harry had only one month to decide.  It was kind of ridiculous, after all he’d been through, thinking about time.  He never really thought there would be a time for him after facing Voldemort for the last time.  He’d spent nearly a year on the run, going day by day, moment by moment.  There was never time to do anything.  But now that he had so much time in comparison, it still seemed so short.  Decisions about the future were hard once your future didn’t rely on a prophecy.  And they were no less demanding.

            He’d gotten another letter from the head Auror on the same day, saying that he could start Auror training as soon as he said the word.  Harry had thrown that letter down with a groan and ignored it.  He still wanted to become an Auror, but it felt far too soon.  After being in that state of fight or flight for so long, he just wanted a life that had some semblance of normalcy.  And he was well aware that if he just accepted an Auror position without getting any of the required N.E.W.T.s, he’d be abusing his position as the Boy Who Lived.  Everyone else worked incredibly hard to get an Auror career.  He’d feel like an imposter.  That was no way to earn a living.

            He went back to cleaning, thoughts swirling in his head like a tornado.

 


	5. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry returns to Diagon Alley for the first time since the War.

5\. Diagon Alley

As much as Harry loved Diagon Alley, it pained him to see it.  People had done their best to restore the place to its former glory, but Harry noticed the aura of mourning and couldn’t help remembering the shops and shopkeepers that would never return.  He kept his eyes glued to the ground as he passed Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and though his stomach rumbled he couldn’t step foot into Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour.  The pleasant old wizard had never been found. The shop had reopened, but it was not the same.  Ollivander had reopened his shop as well, but most of the work was now being done by an apprentice and the old man said very little.  Ghosts of the past were everywhere.  But Harry needed to go to Flourish and Blott’s.

            Housekeeping charms that were not dated and/or weak were hard to come by in Harry’s old schoolbooks.  And the upkeep of the house had started to drive him crazy.  Though Grimmauld Place’s courtyard garden had been dead for decades, there was still a pesky gnome infestation that had started infiltrating the house.  And Harry was tired of getting bitten every time he opened a kitchen cupboard or putting on his slippers.  So he quit procrastinating his trip to the bookshop and apparated right outside the Leaky Cauldron after finally having enough. 

            The shop clerk had a brief look of surprise on her face as she realized who he was, but quickly started suggesting some books when he described what he was looking for.  But as he was leaving the shop, she said, “Mr. Potter…I know you probably have heard this a lot…but thank you, for what you did.” 

He stammered a “you’re…welcome” in reply and then left in a hurry.  He didn’t have time to fall into those memories right now.  Ugh, stupid Potter, can’t even go into a bookshop without someone drawing attention to his “achievements.” He knew she meant no harm and that her thanks were genuine, but all he had wanted were his books.  He didn’t want someone to bring up his savior status every time he went into public.  But it seemed that that was inevitable.

Deep in thought as he plodded down the cobblestones to the bakery, he didn’t notice the other figure walking straight towards him and they collided. 

“Sorry…sorry, I-“ he started, until he realized who the person was. 

Of course it had to be Draco. 

But the proud Malfoy heir was gone.  While he had gained back some strength and color since the trial, there was still a weariness there.  And…fear. 

Was Draco afraid of him now?

“My fault,” the blond muttered nervously before taking off, head down, to the apothecary before Harry could say anything else.   

Harry was stunned.  A Malfoy admitting fault?  It was almost unnatural.  And what would Malfoy need there?  He had been carrying a list.  Come to think of it, he was carrying a lot of things like ink and quills and a package from Madam Malkin’s. Harry ate his bakery fare quickly, made it back outside the Leaky Cauldron, and apparated home, pondering what Draco would risk going out in public for again so soon after his trial.


	6. Diagon Alley...Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little cuteness to help with the angst.

6\. Diagon Alley…Again

 

Harry returned to Diagon Alley only a few days later.  While the gnome problem had been taken care of (the Flourish and Blott’s witch really knew her stuff) the ancient plumbing in Grimmauld Place was starting to deteriorate and no amount of charms would hold them together anymore.  And Harry had realized something else: he needed an owl.  He missed Hedwig dearly but there was no other convenient way of communicating with the wizard world.  After picking up a rather large assortment of magical plumbing parts and sticking them in a magically enhanced bag like Hermione’s, he headed to Eeylop’s Owl Emporium with a heavy feeling in his chest.

When Harry had received Hedwig as a present it had been a complete surprise and he had fallen in love with her instantly.  But…how do you actually go about choosing an owl for yourself?  What sort of qualities did a wizard look for in an owl?  The one thing he knew is that it couldn’t be another snowy owl.  It was far too soon for that. 

The wizard at the counter was silently watching Harry, as if he were afraid to say anything to him.  But Harry approached the man and asked: “Could you help me pick out an owl? Are they like wands?  Do they choose you?  Or maybe…you could choose one for me?  I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before,” he rambled, running a nervous hand through his messy hair.

At this, the wizard’s face brightened and he began talking about the merits of each owl in the shop, from their strength to their temperament to their speed.  Harry approached a strong-looking eagle owl, but the bird recoiled instantly.  A handsome tawny owl strutted on her perch, cooing as Harry approached and letting him stroke her feathers.  Tiny owls like Pigwidgeon hooted excitedly in their cage and a large screech owl spread his wings like an invitation.  Harry had missed the company of animals, but he knew that these were not right for him.  They had seen nearly every bird in the shop when Harry spotted a timid looking snowy owl inspecting him with interest. 

No.  No more snowy owls.  It wasn’t right.  Not after Hedwig.  But he could at least say hello.  He approached the cage slowly so he wouldn’t scare the thing and was surprised that the owl actually wanted to be stroked. 

Five minutes later Harry was holding the snowy owl’s cage as he floo’d back to Grimmauld Place, wondering what to name him and exasperated, not for the first time, with his lack of self-control.

Harry watched the new owl all afternoon.  He looked very much like Hedwig and was as much if not more affectionate, practically begging Harry for attention once he realized that Harry was a friend and had many tasty owl treats to offer.  Harry had been so occupied that he didn’t realize that Ron and Hermione had floo’d into the living room until Hermione tapped his shoulder.

“I see you’ve gotten a new friend,” Hermione smiled. 

Ron grinned too, reaching out to stroke the bird’s feathers.  It was the first time Harry had seen Ron smile since before the Battle.

“Have you named it yet?” he asked Harry.

Harry shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I didn’t even mean to pick him out at first.  But…well…how could I resist?” he shrugged, smiling a little sadly.  “Clerk at Eeylops said this one was hand-reared to be a messenger owl for the Aurors but was too timid.  Said I was the only one he ever warmed up to.  Gotta love sales wizards…” he sighed, though his tone didn’t indicate any regret. 

They had a pleasant dinner together.  Harry had honed his cooking skills and prepared a meal that rivalled Molly’s. 

In between bites Ron had told Harry that he and Hermione received letters from McGonagall and the Aurors too. 

“I’m going back,” Hermione said in a firm tone.  It surprised nobody.  “I can’t just ignore the fact that I don’t have any N.E.W.T.S.  You know how hard I worked to get this far.  I don’t want that to go to waste.  Even if the Aurors have already offered me a position.”

“They asked me too,” Harry replied, moving his food around his plate idly with his fork.  “I…don’t think I’m ready.”

“I already told them I’d do it,” Ron said calmly.  “I start training on the second of September…so I could see Hermione off before she goes back.”

Harry took in a deep breath. Of course he was worried for his best friend, but he doubted that he could stop him.  Ron’s stubborn streak was a mile long.  And while others were quick to dismiss Ron’s abilities, Harry always knew Ron was a brilliant strategist and was very good in a fight.

“I think you’ll be brilliant,” he said with a genuine smile.  “Just…be careful mate.”

Ron blushed at the praise but then went back to eating his treacle tart.  Hermione looked worried and Harry knew her mind was buzzing with a million questions she wasn’t sure how to ask.

“ ‘Mione, just say what you’re thinking.  I think you’ll explode if you don’t,” Harry told her.

“If you aren’t going to take the Auror job yet…what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’m not sure yet.  Well…first thing on the agenda is to fix up this place.  After that…I don’t know.”

She paused for a moment.  “Well…I know McGonagall probably gave you a deadline…just…don’t forget when it is, okay?”

He nodded and looked over at the now-sleeping owl on his new perch in the corner.  Oh how he looked like Hedwig with face tucked under his wing like that.  But it didn’t hurt to see that as much as he thought it would.  And that was something.


	7. Deadlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry decides.

7\. Deadlines

 

Harry had been so busy with Grimmauld Place that he nearly did forget the deadline anyway.  He nearly forgot his birthday too, until Ron and Hermione kidnapped him and took him back to the Burrow for a surprise party.  He was grateful for the food and company, who seemed to have brightened a little since he last saw them, but his mind kept drifting back to how many chores were still left to do at the house.

It was one thing after another with that house.  While the owl, who had been dubbed Pip because of his peculiar way of hooting, kept the number of pests down in the house, Harry had replaced or fixed most fixtures and plumbing in the house.  The portrait of Mrs. Black had finally come down, but he was at a loss as to what to do with it.  For the moment, he’d locked it up in the attic, along with her beloved elf heads that he couldn’t bear to look at any more.  There were always more chores to do or books to read in the Black family’s library.  So the first of August came as a surprise.

            After giving Pip his breakfast he spied the note on the table once more and groaned.  “I almost forgot.  What do you think I should do, Pip?  I could just stay here, right?” He sighed. “You’re right.  I can’t.  You’re stir crazy, I’m stir crazy…maybe I should go back.  Just…to make sure Hermione isn’t alone this year,” he said, though he wasn’t being entirely truthful with that last statement.

            Before he fully realized what he was doing, Harry had already written a reply to McGonagall and sent it off with Pip.

 

Professor McGonagall,

 

I’m coming back. 

 

Harry

 

P.S. – Thanks


	8. Preparing for Eighth Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School shopping. And Malfoy keeps appearing even though he seems like he wants to hide.

8\. Preparing for Eighth Year

 

A week later Pip returned bearing Harry’s list of school supplies.  He definitely needed to go back to Diagon Alley again.  Aside from the book shop, the apothecary was probably the most important stop, seeing as all of his potion ingredients had expired while he had been on the run the year before.  And he did need some new robes, both for school and not.  And he wanted to check up on George’s shop before the school year started.

            He nearly got into an argument at Gringott’s when he tried to withdraw money from his vault.  The goblins still hadn’t quite forgiven him and Ron and Hermione for Imperiousing one of their own, and disguising themselves, or setting loose the vault-guarding dragon and the subsequent damage that happened thereafter.  But under the law (which Harry had researched along with Hermione beforehand because they anticipated some tension), Harry was still entitled to anything that was in his vault, and goblins, if anything, will follow the law almost to a fault.  So Harry was able to withdraw a significant amount of coins, although it was under a very scrutinizing watch.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he exited the bank.

            He decided to go to Madam Malkin’s shop first.  While his measurements didn’t change all that much, he had filled out his shoulders a little more.  As Madam Malkin was pinning Harry’s sleeves, the door rang.

            “Oh yes, Mr. Malfoy, your order is ready.  Thank you for the advance payment.  Your new Hogwarts robes are in that package right on the counter over there.  Help yourself,” the witch instructed, her eyes only briefly looking at Draco before returning to her work.  As for Draco himself, he rushed to get his robes and quickly shut the door behind him.  Harry heard the crack of apparition right outside the door.

            Harry was surprised yet again.  It seems that he and Hermione were not the only ones returning for an eighth year.  While he couldn’t deny that Draco had a gift for academics, it had always seemed like Draco never had wanted to be at school and would never actually have a use for his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. What could an old Pureblood heir need good marks for anyway?  It wasn’t as if he needed a job to get by.  Then again, maybe he was overgeneralizing.  Harry could live off of his family’s money too and he was still looking to get a job.  Maybe it was an escape?

            Not for the first time, Harry wondered why he was putting so much thought into what Draco Malfoy was doing.  It wasn’t any of his business.  The war was over, and the two of them had been avoiding each other since.  Yet he couldn’t stop trying to figure out Malfoy’s motivation for returning even as he acquired the rest of his school supplies. 

            Harry stopped in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes last.  Ron was taking shifts there and until he started Auror training, and Ginny was too until the start of term.  Ron had moved in with George too, and unfortunately he thought that meant he had more say in how things were run in the store.  So currently Ron and Ginny were arguing about where to put the new and improved Skiving Snackboxes.  Ron wanted them at the front of the store, but Ginny wanted them by the original Skiving Snackboxes.

            “Oh here he is.  Harry, where do you think they should go?” Ginny asked pointedly, eyeing her ideal spot. 

            “Er…I think they should be by the fro-Oi!” Ginny had flicked his head with her fingers playfully. 

            “Actually, I’m not gonna get into this one, sorry.  Why don’t you ask George?” he asked, pointing to where he was standing just a few feet away.

            “Yeah, you gits,” George said, wrapping an arm around each of his siblings.  “Ask me before you start having a row in front of our most distinguished customer.  Anyway, we always put new merchandise in _that_ display,” he said, pointing to one across from the counter.  “And don’t think that just because I have one ear I can’t hear you two bickering.  Don’t forget that I know where you sleep.  And that I own the greatest possible arsenal of practical jokes.”

            Harry stifled a laugh.  It was good to see George’s personality start to come back.

            “So, Harry, what can I do for you?  Puking pastilles? Dungbombs?  Decoy detonators?  I’ve got em all.”

            “Er…maybe some of the last two.  Completely ran out.  Would be good to have some in case.”

            George piled a bunch of them into a bag for Harry and wouldn’t accept any money for them, as usual.  But that was okay.  He hadn’t really come to buy anything anyway.

 

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The next few weeks were a blur.  Harry (under Hermione’s guidance and with her company) had started studying together again in order to prepare for the term and all of the housework that had seemed so important before was put on hold.  It’s not that Harry was now suddenly a model student like Hermione; he just needed to refresh his memory of everything that wasn’t battle magic.  It was like exercising a long-neglected muscle.  If he and Hermione went directly into it without preparation, without getting used to being students again, they’d both burn out in the first month.  For once Harry didn’t fight Hermione’s logic about it all.  But he was still going stir-crazy and was grateful when September first finally arrived.


	9. Someplace Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The train ride gives Harry and his friends some time to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Ele_mentary for pointing out that I had initially written

9\. Someplace like Home

 

It was weird, getting on the Hogwarts Express without Ron.  Not quite lonely, but not quite right, either.  After all, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Seamus, Dean, and Ginny were all there.  But…it was a bit less raucous than normal.  The train was only half as full as it normally was, with a record low number of first-years…only twenty.

Harry wasn’t surprised when Ginny opted to sit in another compartment.  They hadn’t talked much, save for the days surrounding the trial, and Harry felt like there was a mutual understanding that their romantic relationship had run its course.  Their friendship, however, was something he hoped they could continue to grow.

            Harry and Hermione listened to Seamus and Dean tell their summer stories.

            “Me mam was getting insufferable,” Seamus confessed.  “You’d have thought it was me that fought off Voldemort with my bare hands, the way she goes on and on about me being a hero for fighting in the Battle.  And ta think that she wanted me to stay home way back in fifth year.  She insists she never said that now.  I just wish…I wish she wasn’t so praise-y.  I fought cos I had to, not to be put on a pedestal.”  Harry nodded in understanding. 

            “My mum was just glad I came back,” Dean murmured.  “When I left right when seventh year should have started, you see, I didn’t do a good job of explaining of where I was going.  I thought that the more she knew, the more she would be put into danger.  I just couldn’t risk her, or my sisters, or my stepdad.  I’d try to owl her occasionally, tellin’ her I was okay, but that stopped when the Snatchers got really bad.  When I walked in, you’d have thought she’d seen a ghost.  I tried to tell her what happened, but she’s a muggle and…well, she tries to understand, she really does, but she doesn’t know just how much the wizarding world has changed because of what happened.  Anyway, she still made me promise to write her every day or she swore she’d learn how to make Howlers.” 

            Dean had chuckled over the last bit, but there was little humor in his face.  He still had a lot of emotional baggage to go through, just like the rest of them.

            Neville tried to brighten the mood.  “After…you know…I visited my parents in St. Mungo’s and talked to them.  Harry, Hermione, you’ve seen them before.  But this time, when I told them what had happened, they actually looked at me and smiled.  I think they actually recognized me.  They seem to be remembering me every time now.  And well…Nan doesn’t think I’m so useless anymore.  She got me a cat to help me fight off plant pests,” he said, leaning over to unlatch the pet carrier in front of him, which had started to meow.  “She was sleeping so I didn’t want to take her out before.  Here’s Madge,” he said, pulling the beautiful tortoiseshell cat onto his lap.

            Madge eyed Crookshanks with suspicion for a moment before leaping right next to him on Hermione’s lap.  In the next second, she curled up right next to Crookshanks and was in a calm, contented, state.  Harry stroked her soft fur with a slight smile.

            “She’s a beauty,” Harry murmured, while Madge, relishing in the attention, purred like an engine. 

            “Harry’s got a new owl, too,” Hermione grinned.  “Pip’s a real charmer.  Has us all wrapped around his little claws.”

            Pretty soon, it almost felt like old times.  Harry, just for nostalgia’s sake, bought entirely too much from the snack trolley and the four of them in the compartment had a completely unhealthy feast.  Wizard cards were traded and pretty soon it was time to put on their uniforms again.  The familiar squeal of the brakes on the tracks signaled their arrival.

            Harry took a deep breath after exiting the train.  This was Hogwarts.  His favorite place on Earth.  It was going to be okay. 

            Until it wasn’t.

            Every single student above the first years had stopped to look at or touch the thestrals that drew the carriages.  Harry made his way over to one of them, touching a flank gently before sliding down to his knees and stifling a sob.

            He stayed there for a while, not noticing that Hermione was crouched beside him, rubbing his back.  He didn’t know how much time passed before he was able to regain his composure, but every other carriage had gone up to the castle already.  Harry also didn’t realize until he was fully seated that Draco and Blaise were already sitting in the carriage.  As a way to ease the tension, Hermione tried to engage Harry in some small talk (which didn’t really work).  It was clear that either side of the carriage was doing its best to avoid the other, and that not talking or making eye contact at all seemed to be the method of choice.

            When they finally walked through the Main Entrance and into the Great Hall, Harry nearly teared up again.  It was at this moment that he realized that home can feel different than it used to feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Ele_mentary for pointing out that I had initially pasted in the chapter twice on accident. It has now been edited.
> 
> As always, I love hearing your feedback!


	10. Old and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same old Hogwarts, but some things have changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I realized I totally forgot about Dean and Seamus in my initial posting of this chapter, so I fixed it.

10\. Old and New

 

Only five new first years for each House were sorted.  Whispers at each table concluded that none of them were muggle-borns.  Apparently some kind of records were destroyed and the school was working hard to find some way to retrieve those names, but the new term had arrived too soon for them to find and admit any new muggle-borns.  One of the new Slytherins had begun to cry when he took his place with his House, muttering about being in the “evil” House.  A few other Slytherins moved over to console the boy, and before long he was calm enough to focus on the head table.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to both our new first-years and returning students,” McGonagall declared.  “I extend my warmest greetings to you all.  I am Headmistress Minerva McGonagall.”

            For once, the Great Hall was completely silent.

“This school has, for nearly a millennium, educated Great Britain’s magical children.  I realize that the events in the wizarding world severely interrupted the fulfillment of this school’s purpose.  The number of students who remain is at its lowest since the last wizarding war, but we must not let that discourage us, both students and faculty, from becoming educated, thriving, and advancing the magical world into one that honors the memories of those whom we lost.  I encourage you all to enter this new term with new eyes and new motivation.  You are all here to learn.  As much as I hope and expect that you will all excel academically, that is not your only purpose here.  I encourage you develop ways of solving conflicts maturely and quickly and to set aside petty feuds, especially between Houses.  Do not let your preconceived notions about each house determine how you treat anyone.  You are all students who were chosen to be here and must respect each other as such.”

            At this point a lot of looks were sent over to the Slytherin table, whose numbers seemed to have shrunk even more than the others.  Draco looked as if he wanted to hide.  Again, Harry was astounded at the change in personality.  Two years before, Draco had strutted around the castle like he owned the place.  And now? It was night and day. 

            McGonagall continued.

“I would like to announce some new things that will start this term.  From now on, every single student’s schedule will include Muggle Studies.”  She paused for a moment when she heard groans from a few of the students.  “We are magical folk, but we are no better than those without magic and we must learn empathy and compassion for them,” she explained.  “We will not repeat the bigotry of the past, and the words ‘Magic is Might’ will never be uttered anywhere outside of a History of Magic class to show the dangers of division and hatred.”

The Great Hall was silent once more.

“We also have a new person on staff.  Healer Green is here to both assist Madame Pomfrey in her normal day-to-day activities in the Hospital Wing and to serve as Hogwarts’ first Mind Healer.  Anyone wishing to speak to her may do so at any time, provided she is not with another student or member of the faculty.  Your absences from classes due to any meetings with Healer Green will be excused.  Please do not be overzealous with your absences, however, for you will be responsible to make up any work you missed.” 

Moving on, she pointed to another person at the staff table.  “This is your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Hestia Jones.  I believe you may recognize her, Mr. Potter.”

He had noticed Hestia before, but didn’t meet her eyes until just then.  She smiled faintly at him and then looked back at McGonagall.  He recognized her as the member of the Order, of the Advanced Guard to be more precise, who escorted the Dursleys away from Privet Drive.  He was glad to see her alive and well, especially after she had had to deal with his awful aunt and uncle.  She had been so kind to him even though they’d only ever talked briefly.  But he also knew that as a member of the Order, she would have very high standards for her class.

“Quidditch has been reestablished this term, and tryouts are on Sunday for all years, though first-years must past their basic-level flying test before then in order to qualify.  The team captains will post their scheduled times tomorrow morning,” McGonagall continued, winking subtly at Ginny, who proudly wore her Gryffindor Quidditch Captain pin on her robes.  Ginny elbowed Harry, reminding him not-so-subtle-y that he would suffer grievous bodily harm if he failed to show.

“And now for a final announcement for today.  You are aware that some students have returned for an Eighth Year in order to finish their N.E.W.T.S.  I address them directly right now: Each of you has spent seven years as a member of one of the four great Houses of this school.  That will not change.  However; your accommodations will be different than that of previous years, due to you being an extra year.  A new common room and dormitories have been made for the twelve of you.  Though any points you may gain or lose still go to your Houses, your new dormitories will not be divided by House. As all of you are of age, you will be expected to be adults and look at each other as colleagues.  Professor Jones will escort you to your new common room after the feast.”

Several people gasped in surprise and more glares were shot towards Draco and Blaise in particular.  If Draco could have melted into the floor, he probably would have.  Blaise, normally confident, had a twinge of anxiety in his eyes. 

            Though Harry had some anxiety as well, he had missed the food from the Hogwarts kitchens and couldn’t help but eat second helpings of everything.  He smiled to himself, thinking that if Ron had been there, he would have probably eaten three and still been hungry.  Madge, who had seemed to take a liking to him, kept begging for bits of food and he happily obliged when Neville wasn’t looking.

            When the feast ended, Harry paced around the entrance to the Great Hall waiting for Hestia, no, Professor Jones to take the Eighth years to their new dorms.  Hermione grabbed his arm. 

“Stop.  You’ll wear a hole in the floor,” she hissed.  “It’ll be okay.”

 

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            Eventually Professor Jones led them to portrait near the library.  Its occupant was an approximation of the world’s most famous Arithamancers, Hermione whispered to Harry. 

            “ _Auxilio est prospere_ ,” said Professor Jones, and the wizard quickly opened the passage to the new common room. 

           This common room was not all that much different than the other common rooms when it came to fixtures and furniture, though the bookshelves were considerably large for only sixteen people.  There was a lot of space and the fabrics and tapestries were shades of violet, orange, and white rather than the four House colors.           

There was a boy’s dormitory and a girl’s dormitory.  Professor Jones mentioned that a third dormitory was to be added the next year, when they expected more students.          

  The boy’s dormitory was a long room with eight four-poster beds in a row on one side, with a row of dressers, closets, and shelves on the other.  The beds were not assigned.  Blaise claimed the bed in the corner of the room farthest from the door, saying something about how he needs to be near a wall in order to sleep.  Draco begrudgingly let him, but took the bed immediately next to it, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.  Justin Finch-Fletchley took the bed on the opposite corner, trying to be as far from the Slytherins as possible and not being silent about that fact.  Anthony Goldstein took the one immediately next to Justin’s.  Dean, who was friends with Anthony, took the next bed.  Seamus took the one next to Dean.

            Neville looked at Harry nervously.  Harry knew Neville wouldn’t ask it out loud, but he could tell Neville was pleading not to be put next to Malfoy.  So Harry set his stuff on the bed next to Malfoy’s without another thought. 

            “Thanks mate,” Neville whispered.  Harry shrugged.  

           “Oh, wow, Potter.  First you’re letting Malfoy off of getting thrown into jail like the criminal he is and now you’re sleeping right next to him?  How rich,” Justin scoffed before flopping onto his bed. 

           “Leave him alone,” Neville growled.  “I don’t see you volunteering to switch places.”   

         Justin responded by shutting the bed curtains and muttering to himself.  

         Other than that, it was a pretty quiet first night, though the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.  Eventually they all fell into an exhausted, restless sleep.


	11. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day of Eighth Year classes. A new professor. And McGonagall has a difficult favor to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I SO appreciate all your lovely comments and feedback. I meant to write this like two days ago but instead I ended up dropping my computer and having to get a new one. Yeah, that was sucky. But I finally was able to write tonight, yay!

  1.  Day One



 

Harry woke up the next morning all groggy and wanting to distance himself from any kind of human contact.  He quickly did his morning routine, avoiding any conversation and trying to get out of everyone’s way.  While everyone else was still getting dressed, he made his way to the new common room to seek out his timetable.  

Eighth Years and Seventh Years would share some of the classes (like N.E.W.T.-level Arithmancy and other specialized subjects that not everyone studied), but for the most part, all the Eighth Years would be in their own classes.  Because Harry was still in the track to be an Auror, the subjects he was required to take didn’t change all that much since his sixth year.  Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms were still there, but true to McGonagall’s word, Muggle Studies was also included.  Harry only needed five N.E.W.T.s to be an Auror, but studying with Hermione must have had some effect on him because he also requested to be put into the Alchemy class purely out of curiosity.

First up was Muggle Studies.  Double Muggle Studies for all of the Eighth Years.  There was no mystery why.  Harry pondered what the lesson would be like as he ate his toast. 

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The wizard that stood at the front of the classroom had a friendly face, but Harry didn’t recognize him.  The professor didn’t even attend the previous night’s feast.  And he was wearing muggle clothes...a jumper and khaki trousers to be more precise.  The only indication of him being a wizard was that he had a wand in his pocket and a worn Ravenclaw scarf around his neck.

“Good Morning, Eighth Years,” he said, giving a warm smile.  “My name is Adric Gladwyn.  It is my pleasure to meet you.  Now, I want to start this term off right so please, ask me any question you like so there are no distractions after we really get started.”

Hermione raised a hand, to nobody’s surprise.  “Sir, is it okay to ask why you were not at the feast yesterday?  Are you feeling all right?”

Professor Gladwyn chuckled.  “I was on a train, actually.  Didn’t get here until an hour after the feast ended last night.  You see, I was a professor at a university while hiding from You-Know-Who.  I’m muggle-born, you see. And I am one of the few former students that actually earned muggle degrees after Hogwarts.  I taught psychology and sociology.  And I taught during the summer term and the university took forever to find and acknowledge my resignation letter. I was only able to fully resign yesterday afternoon.”

“Psychology?  That’s about the mind, isn’t it?” said Anthony Goldstein.  “I thought Muggle Studies was about muggle technology and electricity.”

“And telly-phoons,” Seamus added.  

In the back of the classroom, Hermione facepalmed.

“We will be talking about some of that over the course of term, yes, but muggles are more than their technology,” Professor Gladwyn replied.  “We will be examining more than just how muggles cope without magic.  We will examine their societies and cultures, their philosophies, and eventually, yes, their innovations.  But overall, we are going to study what makes us, wizards and muggles alike, just as human as one another.”

Pansy Parkinson scoffed.  Astoria Greengrass shot her a look and elbowed her as a way to tell her to shut up.

“Do you have a comment you’d like to share, Miss?” Professor Gladwyn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Parkinson.  Don’t know why I need to take this silly class.  I’m never around muggles anyway.  Don’t like em, don’t need em.”  

“Miss Parkinson, attitudes like that are exactly why you need to be here in this class,” Professor Gladwyn replied firmly, in a way that reminded Harry of Remus.

Padma Patil cautiously raised her hand and gave her sister a look.  “Professor, about the muggle technology...will we...will there be a test about that?  My sister and I...well...we don’t know about…and we didn’t take Muggle Studies before…”

Neville looked nervous as well.

“Nothing to worry about, er...Miss...Patil, is it?” Professor Gladwyn said, looking up from the roster which he had just found.  “I will be going over technology as thoroughly as you need me to in order for you to pass your exams.  You’ll hopefully be able to try some things out for yourselves, too.  But again, that will not be the sole focus of this class.”

A look of relief swept over the faces of the students that did not grow up with muggle technology.  Even Blaise’s normally-confident face.

“So, let’s begin with a little muggle history…” Professor Gladwyn began.

Harry had to admit that Professor Gladwyn was a pretty engaging teacher.  He didn’t read from an outdated, boring textbook like most of the students feared would happen.  He would always be sure to tell them what was happening in wizarding history whenever he talked about certain big events in muggle history.  Still, it was all things that Harry had heard before.

Harry was watching Neville furiously scratch down some notes during the second part of the class when a memo not unlike those used at the Ministry of Magic flitted into the room.  

“Mister Potter, Professor McGonagall is asking you to go to her office presently.  I’m sure you’ll be okay with this material.  I’ll ask Miss Granger to bring you the reading assignment for next class.”

Harry nodded appreciatively and gathered his things.

 

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“You want me to  _ what _ ?” Harry asked.

McGonagall sighed and rubbed her eyes.  “I think it would be beneficial if you told the First Years about your first-hand experiences with fighting Voldemort.  One class every two weeks.”

“So they have nightmares?” Harry scoffed.

“No.  Because they need to hear the history from the source.  I...I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary, Potter.  I know that you’ve stayed awake through enough of your History of Magic lessons to realize that Professor Binns’ knowledge of anything in the last fifty years is severely lacking.  How long will it be before we forget what kind of attitudes led to people joining the Death Eaters?  I do not want these children to grow up in harmful ignorance.  And I do not think you do either, Harry.”

“But don’t you have the new Muggle Studies requirement to help?  And the new professor?  He seems better suited to the job, Professor McGonagall.”

She took a deep breath.  “Professor Gladwyn is a very qualified Muggle Studies teacher.  But he was in hiding during the war.  He did not see what you saw.  If the children are ever going to understand what kind of horror happened during that time, they need to hear it from someone who witnessed it.  Someone who lived through it.”

“Professor...I don’t think I’m ready to do that.  I can’t...I haven’t talked about it...I can’t. Not right now. But...I know how important it is.”

“Perhaps if you had someone to talk to?  What if you could speak with Healer Green about these things?  You don’t have to make long speeches.  It can just be about one little event that you remember from this last year.  Healer Green is a good listener, Harry.  She has helped...me.”

Harry looked up at Professor McGonagall.  It had to have taken a lot for her to admit that.  

Harry gulped. “I...I’ll try.  But I can’t make any promises.  Professor McGonagall?”

“Yes?”

“I have a request.  I know that you want just the First Years there for the talk.  But...maybe...if this is as big of a threat as you think it is, any of the students should be allowed to be there.  And, to be honest, I don’t want to repeat the stories a million times.  It’s already going to be hard enough to do them once.  And...I want Hermione to help me.”

McGonagall looked at Harry appreciatively and then gave him one extremely rare Minerva McGonagall hug.  

“Thank you, Potter.”

 

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The rest of the day was relatively calm, with a free period, Herbology, and Charms as the rest of the schedule.  Harry spent the free period flying around the Quidditch pitch.  Neville had become Professor Sprout’s favorite student over the last couple years, and so he did most of the demonstrations in Herbology with a confidence Harry had never seen in him before.  Professor Flitwick reviewed a lot of charms, but that was just fine with Harry.  This time, when Harry attempted to change his eyebrow color, he got it to change back from bright yellow on his first try.

Later on, in the common room, Harry talked to Hermione about what McGonagall wanted him to do.  Hermione looked perplexed. 

“I agree with her premise, but...Harry, you are allowed to say no.”

“So are you, but you don’t look like you’re about to,” he replied, crossing his arms.  “I don’t think it ever crossed your mind, even though I volunteered you without asking.”

“If you’re not ready…”

“I’m not, right now.  But I’m going to try to...talk to the Healer.  If that doesn’t help, I won’t do it.  Okay, Hermione?

“Okay.”

“I meant to ask, how was your Arithmancy class?” Harry asked.  

“Um...quieter than normal, I suppose,” Hermione shrugged.  “I’m lucky Pansy isn’t in that class.  And Malfoy hasn’t said...anything.  He usually would raise his hand all the time just to prove he was better than me.  And now he just sits there quietly.  It’s unnerving.”

“He never said anything last night in the dormitory either.  It’s like he just wants to be invisible,” Harry remarked.

Hermione shrugged and they started looking over their Alchemy textbooks.

That night, Harry’s side of the dorm was even quieter than the night before.  But at least on the other side, Anthony, Justin, Seamus, and Dean were playing a lively game of Exploding Snap.  Harry was watching, along with Neville, who was still a little afraid of causing an accident with the cards.  The only time Draco or Blaise even looked in their direction was when Seamus’s winning cards mysteriously made a loud boom from an explosion three times the normal size.  By then, the game was over because they were trying to get Seamus’s bedclothes to stop smoking and then everyone went to bed.

Harry fell asleep almost instantly, with the smell of smoke still in his nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love getting feedback! It feeds the muse.


	12. Alchemy, and Professor Jones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So many new teachers!

  1. Alchemy, and Professor Jones



 

Harry had never taken any subject like Alchemy before, and over breakfast, he asked Hermione what she thought the lessons would be like.  Truth be told, he was nervous.  

“Well, it’s like a deeper sort of Transfiguration.  But it’s...mostly permanent,” Hermione said.  

“Why am I even taking it?” he asked with a scowl.  “It’s not like I need gold or another Sorcerer’s Stone.  I don’t know half as many Ancient Runes as you do or basically any Arithmancy.  This was silly.  I’ll go get my classes changed,” he said, starting to get up.

Hermione pulled him back down into his seat.

“I know that.  But having Alchemy skills could only help you be a better Auror in the long run.  You could have a specialty very few other Aurors will ever have.”

“I don’t want to be special.  I just want to blend in for once,” he sighed, cleaning his glasses.

“I think you’re just afraid,” Hermione retorted.  “Come on, at least go to the first class before you make a decision.”

Harry frowned.  “Fine.  But if I don’t think I can do it, I’m out of there.”

Hermione smirked as she sipped her pumpkin juice.

 

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Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Years shared the Alchemy class.  Harry was pleased to see that Luna had decided to take it.  He had a feeling she would be good at it, even though he still wasn’t completely sure about what Alchemy was.  Hannah Abbott was in the front, as was Justin Finch-Fletchley.   Anthony was on the other side of the aisle in the front row next to Luna.  With Harry as nervous as he was, and because he was still avoiding Justin, he still sat in the back of the class.  On the other side of the aisle, Draco and Blaise sat quietly, only talking to each other in whispers as if talking any louder would land them in trouble.  Despite that, a lot of nasty looks were thrown their way.

The professor at the head of the classroom had eyes like a hawk and a face whose sternness rivalled McGonagall’s.  Harry could tell this professor took the position as Alchemy teacher very seriously.

“My name is Cyprus Wright.  Before you ask, yes, I am descended from Bowman Wright, the metal worker that created the Golden Snitch.  I used to be in Gryffindor.  You may address me as Professor Wright, or Sorcerer or Magus.  Please refrain from calling me Sir or Miss, as neither is accurate.  I know some of you may be concerned that you do not know much Arithmancy or many Ancient Runes, but I am going to reassure you right now that I will fully fill in any gaps in your knowledge in those subjects in order for you to fully comprehend this class.  As long as you put in the proper effort, I will not allow you to fail.  Now, onto the lesson.”

Though the symbols Professor Wright had them write down and memorize made Harry’s head spin because of their novelty, he was no longer so anxious.  It felt good to have something new to learn again.  And he quickly learned that Alchemy was not just about making gold and elixirs of life as he had thought.  If he was able to harness the elements in a way that helped other people...maybe it would make him a better Auror, as Hermione insisted it would.

To Harry, the class went by way too quickly.  So he continued looking over his notes and reading ahead in the textbook during lunch, asking Hermione questions occasionally.

 

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Walking into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom again gave Harry a feeling he couldn’t quite define.  Here was where Remus taught Neville how to deal with boggarts.  Here was where Umbridge called him a liar.  Here was where Quirrell taught week after week, a stuttering nervous wreck, giving absolutely no clue of his true identity, until attempting to kill him at the end of first year.  

Professor Jones gave the class a warm smile.  “Good afternoon.  As Professor McGonagall has already said, I am Hestia Jones.  As someone who has heard what all of you have done in the face of danger and adversity over the last few years and during the war, I say I am thoroughly impressed.  But as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, I will also hold you to very high standards, both academically and as citizens of the wizarding world.  I know there are tensions between all of the students here, and I will remind you that we are here to learn and practice defensive magic, not to duel someone at the drop of a hat. We learn Defense Against the Dark Arts not to start fights, but to protect ourselves and others.  I trust that you Eighth Years are adult enough to respect that.”

Harry fell back into the class easily.  Professor Jones’ style was akin to Remus’s in many ways; she laughed a lot and was very encouraging.  However, she highlighted a lot more of the technical aspects of the spells.  A lot of the spells they went over were review on that first day, but Professor Jones also assigned a short paper on the ethics of using offensive spells versus defensive spells in a fight.   Harry found it was an easier assignment than he thought it would be, because it was something he had thought of many times before.

Afterwards, in Transfiguration class, Harry finally felt like he was a normal student again.  Professor McGonagall wasn’t afraid to correct him or expect anything different from him because of who he was in her classroom.  It was refreshing.  

That day, Harry felt more confident and at ease than he had in a long time.


	13. Healer Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to the Mind Healer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to preface this by saying I'm not fully satisfied with this chapter. I'm trying really hard to make a positive representation of therapy because well...I've been there. I know how words matter and how carefully a therapist should choose them. So please, I just wanted to say that I do not want to offend anyone because of the way I've written this character and conversation. I do not want to fall into neurotypical stuff that can be counterproductive. But I do think that this chapter needs to be here.

13\. Healer Green

Later on that week, Harry decided to go have his first session with Healer Green during Muggle Studies. It’s not that he disliked Muggle Studies, but most of the things that Professor Gladwyn was talking about were things Harry already knew. And he knew that Professor Gladwyn wouldn’t put up a fuss about his absence.  
Healer Green’s office was near the Hospital Wing, but was still its own separate space. Harry had never been to a psychologist before, which is what he felt the muggle equivalent to a Mind Healer would be, but he was pleased to see that it wasn’t like a stereotypical psychologist’s office like on a television program. It was more like a common room. The chairs and couches were comfortable, there was light streaming through windows, and nothing seemed clinical and impersonal.   
What did seem a little off to Harry was that Pip was sitting on an owl perch by the one open window.  
“Pip! What are you doing here?” he asked, a little louder than he intended.  
“Oh? He’s your owl, then, is he?” Healer Green said with a smile. “I tend to have the window open so the air doesn’t get so stuffy. He found my stash of owl treats the one day when I was out helping Madame Pomfrey. He’s come back every day since expecting another treat. Please, Harry, have a seat somewhere. These chairs are charmed to be extra comfortable.”  
“I hope Pip didn’t annoy you,” Harry replied, taking Pip with him to the nearest couch and stroking the owl’s feathers. “He likes to explore. He got stuck up a chimney once. I’ve...only had him for a little while.”  
Healer Green chuckled and sat across from Harry in a patchwork-adorned chair. “Think nothing of it. It’s nice to have a feathered visitor once in a while. Helps me manage my work. It’s been rather busy.”  
Harry looked down at his feet.  
“You seem like you want to say something,” Healer Green observed.  
“Er...it’s just that...I didn’t know that you would be so busy. Wizardkind...doesn’t seem the type to be open to therapy. That’s what this is, right? Therapy?”  
She cocked her head. “Technically yes, but really all that means is that we have conversations where we try to help you figure things out. I’ll listen to you, offer advice where I can, and empathize where I can’t. And, well, a lot of your classmates and even professors need someone to talk to after what happened over the past few years. And I am really, really good at listening,” she replied.   
He was silent for a moment. “Sorry, I don’t know how this works. I’m not used to talking about myself. Usually it’s other people talking about me,” he shrugged.  
“Well, right now, it’s all about what you want to say about yourself,” she said. “There’s a reason why you’re here. Or multiple reasons. Can I ask why?”  
“It’s hard to define,” he replied, slowly. “I mean...you know who I am, what I did, right?”  
“I know some of the details of how you survived Voldemort so many times, yes. And that you eventually were able to defeat him.”  
“Yes, that. And nobody will ever let me forget it. Not even myself. I’m tired, Healer Green. Everyone says I’m a hero, but...everyone else made so many more sacrifices than I did.”  
“Why do you say that?”  
“I lost my parents, but I don’t remember them. I didn’t lose a twin brother, or a sister, or my best friends.”   
“But you lost other people too, Harry. Your godfather, and Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks, and Albus Dumbledore...and Fred Weasley...from what I’ve heard, you were very close to all of them. But that’s not all, Harry. You had a piece of Voldemort stuck inside of you for 16 years. He attacked you in your very mind. I don’t know how it must have felt, Harry, but I do know about what happens with trauma to the mind. When a person experiences mental trauma, it’s very hard for them to feel secure. They may feel like they’re not allowed to settle down and move on with their life. Usually, a person can at least take refuge in their own mind. But your connection to Voldemort...you couldn’t, could you?”  
Harry was nervously fiddling with a feather that had fallen off of Pip. “I had so many nightmares,” he gulped. “And...well...day-mares. I never knew when it would happen next. My scar would hurt, but that wasn’t much warning. And I was given Occlumency lessons, but I could never quite get the hang of it. I was fifteen, for Merlin’s sake! But...they...the visions, I mean...stopped when Voldemort died. I should be okay now, at least with that. But...I don’t think I am.”  
“Harry, just because it doesn’t happen anymore doesn’t mean that the trauma is gone. It takes time to feel safe again. You need to be patient with yourself.”  
“I’m not used to having time, Healer Green,” he admitted. “I’m used to due dates, impending doom, and resigning myself to my fate. I was never able to be patient with myself because I could have gotten in trouble, died or gotten someone else in trouble or killed if I waited too long to do something.”  
“But that is no longer the case, Harry. You are alive. Nobody is trying to kill you or get you into trouble anymore. Your friends are no longer in danger either. You are allowed to take your own time to deal with things so you can start to heal rather than let things fester.”  
“But I promised...erm...well...Professor McGonagall wants me to talk to the First Years about the things I’ve seen, Healer Green. She says she doesn’t want anyone to grow up and forget what led to the war in the first place and how much pain it caused.”  
Healer Green made a face. “Minerva has a duty to this school and this is her way of trying to prevent another tragedy here. But you are allowed to say no, correct?”  
“Yeah, I am, but...I don’t want to. I think she’s right. And I don’t want another Wizarding War to happen ever again. I’ve got to help. I even told Professor McGonagall that I want other years to be able to listen in as well.”  
“You’re sure you want to do that?” she asked.  
“Yes. I just don’t know where to start.”  
“Well...I think something small. Maybe it doesn’t have to be anything during the War in the first place. Maybe it’s just something you lived through or witnessed that you can see is connected to the attitudes of people during the War.”  
“I guess I could try that for the first talk, he mused. “But...I know that I’ll have to say more difficult things too. And...I think I have to talk to you about those first, so I can...so I can just sort them out in my head.”  
“That sounds like a good plan,” Healer Green agreed.   
Harry was in the Healer’s office for the entire class period. By the time they had finished their conversation, Harry had more questions than ever about himself, and it made him a little nervous. But he did feel like something started where maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to do as Professor McGonagall asked...eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love feedback! I thank you all so much for your kind words so far.


	14. Quidditch Tryouts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It should have been normal Quidditch tryouts. But of course, nothing normal ever happens at this school. And when things go awry, sometimes the people you least expect help out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm basing this kind of situation off of two ideas:   
> 1\. The Snitch can leave the Quidditch pitch (I know that's not exactly canon but in the video games the Snitch can do that so there)  
> 2\. The layout of the grounds is based on the HBP and OoTP video game layouts. Anyone who's played them extensively will probably know exactly where I'm talking about.

  1. Quidditch Tryouts



 

That Saturday Harry woke up genuinely excited at the prospect of being able to play Quidditch again.  He quickly pulled on his robes and headed down to the pitch with a piece of toast in hand.

Gryffindor had the first time block for tryouts.  It looked like Ginny had already been there for several hours, making sure to get every last thing perfect.  Harry grinned.  Oliver Wood would have been proud that Ginny was being such a diligent captain already.  Harry knew  _ he _ was.  

A sizeable amount of students were trying out from Gryffindor; even a few first years.  

“Right.  Chasers are first, then Beaters, then Seeker, then Keeper,” Ginny announced.  “I won’t be announcing who made the team until everyone is finished, so don’t make any assumptions before that.”

There were many Chaser hopefuls hoping to secure the two open spots. Ginny explained that she would be looking at not only individual skills, but also their teamwork.  Harry could see the ranks narrow down to about five potentials, two of whom had been on the team before.  It would be hard to make the final call.

Ginny had the foresight to set up protective charms around observers while potential Beaters had their tryouts.  And it was a good thing, too, because one cocky Third Year would have hit a bludger straight at Ginny’s head.  This time, Harry pretty much knew who Ginny would pick.  After all, Beaters had to have as much if not more teamwork than the Chasers and it was obvious that two of them had great chemistry together.

Harry had nearly forgotten that he also had to try out.  But as he got onto a school-owned Cleansweep (the Firebolt gave him an unfair advantage, Ginny reasoned), he was once again in Seeker “zone.”  At first, Ginny had him and the other potential Seeker catch golf balls she had thrown or charmed.  They both caught every single one meant for them.  And then, Ginny let two Snitches free, implying that whoever caught theirs first would win the spot.  The Fourth Year witch grinned at Harry and he grinned back.  Oh, how he missed this.

It took nearly fifteen minutes for Harry to even spot the Snitch.  He thought he was done for.  But about two minutes later, he had it in hand.  He put it back into its case a bit dejectedly and then looked at Ginny. 

“Well...I guess I can be an alternate, right?” he shrugged.

“Actually, um...Harry, have you seen Jemma at all?  We saw her only for the first two minutes.  I charmed the Snitches...I know she hasn’t caught hers yet.  Harry...I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“I’ll go look for her,” Harry suggested.  “You keep with your tryouts.  It’ll keep everyone calmer.” 

He retrieved his Firebolt and pushed off, climbing high to see if he could spot Jemma anywhere.

“Oh no,” he gasped, spotting her scarlet Quidditch robes on the ground between the boathouse and the viaduct courtyard.  

The path that connected the two places was hewn out of the mountain the castle stood upon.  It was all rock.

Harry zoomed towards Jemma and barely managed not to crash into the mountainside himself.  She was unconscious and had a nasty looking wound on her forehead.  Her broom was broken and the Snitch she had been chasing was smashed to pieces by being crashed into the wall of rock.  Harry swallowed, unsure of what to do.  He didn’t have any dittany on him, which would heal at least the surface wounds.  He did the only other thing he could think of and magically projected his voice.  

“Help!  Someone’s hurt!  Please help me!”

Much to his surprise, the nearest person to come running was Draco Malfoy.  _ What the hell was he doing out here? _ Harry wondered.  At this time of day, that part of the grounds was usually empty.  But that wasn’t important right now.  What was important was making sure Jemma was okay.

“Did you see how far she fell?” Draco asked sharply.  “Did you see the impact?”

“No, I…”

“Great,” Draco growled.  “Send a Patronus message to Madame Pomfrey, then.  She needs to get here, fast.  Do it, Potter!”

Harry wasn’t sure how he managed to get the Patronus to work like that, but surely enough Madame Pomfrey arrived within a minute.  She had floo-ed to the nearest fireplace in the castle and run out to meet them.  But during the short time in between, Harry noticed Draco gently examining Jemma’s head wound and sticking his scarf under her to make sure her neck was stable.  He checked her breathing, and mumbled some sort of spell over her that Harry didn’t recognize but evidently did something, because her head wound looked a lot less purple than it did and the trickle of blood Harry had seen going down her forehead stopped.

Healer Green arrived not long after Madame Pomfrey, and all four people together  managed to levitate Jemma back to the Hospital Wing after Madame Pomfrey deemed it safe for them to do so.  “Mr. Malfoy, you might have just saved her life with that charm,” she muttered right before she and Healer Green started muttering other healing spells.  

All Harry could do was watch.  About two minutes later, Jemma was conscious again and he and Draco had been kicked out of the room.

First, they had been questioned by Professor McGonagall.  They both gave their versions of what happened, and Harry insisted that it was not Ginny’s fault and that McGonagall should not in any way penalize her.  After McGonagall was satisfied that she got the full picture, she went into the Hospital Wing.  Then Harry and Draco were alone in the corridor.

“Draco, you-”

“Don’t you dare say, it, Potter.  I just knew that charm would help, that’s all.”

“No, I mean, I was wondering about that, but I was gonna ask how you knew I could do the message with a Patronus.  I’ve never done that before.”

“Because.  I just did.  Now I have to go before people think I did this to her, so if you excuse me, I’m going to go to the common room.”

“But you didn’t, Malfoy.  I saw you help her.  I would make sure people know that I saw you  _ helping _ .”

“Well, wouldn’t be the first time someone doesn’t believe what you saw,” he scoffed.  “And I don’t need your help.  You’ve already done enough.  I...just...leave it, Potter,” Draco replied, sounding a bit desperate.  

“But-” Harry began, but Draco had already turned the corner.  Harry just stood there, dumbfounded.


	15. The First Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's first talk about his experiences is different than you might expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that you all have been so kind and welcoming? You are all amazing and keep me motivated to keep this thing going.

  1.  The First Talk



 

Luckily, Jemma turned out to be just fine after Madame Pomfrey fixed her up.  Though Harry was officially Seeker, she would make a fine alternate if the need arose.  Harry made sure to let her know that she was welcome at every single practice.  And she usually did come, though she was a little more reserved and careful.

The days started to blur into a haze of classes, homework, meetings with Healer Green, and Quidditch practice.  Harry felt like he made a lot of progress with Alchemy, and actually enjoyed doing his homework for that class (though he wouldn’t admit that to Hermione).  He managed his other classes as well as he ever did, and he managed not to get into any major spats with his dorm-mates.

But two weeks afterward, it was time for Harry to give his first talk.  Professor McGonagall had announced the time at breakfast that morning to the whole school and the First Years had it written as mandatory in their timetables even though it was a Saturday.

When it came to the actual venue for the talk, Harry had voiced that he didn’t want it to be the Great Hall.  He felt it was too big and echo-y and impersonal.  The library was a little more desirable, but Madam Pince would probably have had his hide for giving a speech there.  And the Room of Requirement...well...there was just too many issues there.  In the end, he decided it would be best to have the talk outside in the Transfiguration courtyard, where there was a nice lawn and trees and plenty of places to sit.

Harry channeled his nervous energy beforehand into accio-ing and levitating a number of stone benches into place in the middle of the courtyard.  By the time he was finished, the First Years, being led by Professor McGonagall, had filed in and started sitting down.  A number of older students shuffled in behind them, whispering their excitement about finally hearing from the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One.

Harry fiddled with his robes anxiously as he began to speak.

“So...er...Professor McGonagall asked me to talk about the War, and the things I’ve seen, and hopefully try to tell my story to you.  I can’t forget what happened.  But the thing is, I know other people will.  And when we forget what led to the rise of Voldemort, and the Battle, we might end up repeating history.  And I don’t want Hogwarts or the Wizarding World to be in that kind of danger ever again.”

A few of the older students watching who had been there during the Battle nodded.

“Today I am not going to relive what happened during the Battle of Hogwarts with you.  I am going to start with something smaller.  But I promise you that it does have everything to do with it,” he explained.

“When I was in Second Year, a person in my year called one of my best friends a Mudblood.  I had never heard the word before, because I had grown up in a Muggle house.  But I knew it was something foul.  My friend is muggleborn, you see.  And she was incredibly upset that someone called her that.  And my other friend, who comes from a wizarding family, ended up trying to hex the person who said it.  It backfired because his wand was broken, but it must have been really powerful, because he spent the rest of the day burping up slugs.”

A few knowing smiles were exchanged by some of the oldest students.  Hermione, who was standing behind everyone, crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

“You might be wondering why I’m bringing up this up.  But if you’ve been paying attention to Professor Gladwyn’s classes, you might already know,” Harry said.  “It wasn’t all that long ago where all of you and your families were screened and questioned about your magical blood status.  Muggleborns were accused of stealing wands and magic from ‘real’ witches and wizards, and many had their wands snapped or were sent to Azkaban, and many were even killed.  Why?  Because of the lie that only those with magical families are actual wizards and witches and sorcerers.  Because muggleborns are believed to be tainted with ‘dirty’ non-magical blood,” he said bitterly. 

“I can guarantee that blood-status is nothing.  You either have magic, or you don’t.  Having magic does not make you better or worse than any other human being.  And your blood status has nothing to do with your magical ability.  My muggleborn friend?  She’s always been at the top of our year.  And my mother was muggleborn too and that didn’t stop her from being a Potions prodigy.”

He paused for a moment.

“I guess what I wanted you to get from today is that you shouldn’t treat people based on where they came from.  Because then more and more people start doing it, the more anti-whoever stuff happens.  And then there’s fights. And stupid laws put into place to discriminate against people.  And then corrupt politicians.  And hate groups.  And people like Voldemort recruiting them.  It all is connected.”

The crowd murmured a little, with some voices sounding dismissive.

“Look, I know that maybe...maybe some of you have grown up hearing these rumors about how bad muggles and muggleborns are.  And you know what?  Some might be. I lived with the worst muggles I ever knew.  But that doesn’t mean all of them are like that.  All I want you to learn from this is that you should always treat people like people.  Don’t let what you hear about people dictate how you see them for yourself.  Make your own observations.  Get to know them.  Decide for yourself.”

And with that, Harry was done.  As the group dispersed, Harry looked at Hermione and grinned with relief that it wasn’t a total embarrassment.  But some distance behind her, near the actual building, he noticed Draco staring at him before the blond scampered off.

Hermione approached Harry with a smile and gave him a warm hug.  

“You did great, Harry.  And thank you for not naming names, even though I’m pretty sure the older ones knew who it was,” she said.  “Oh, the slugs.  Ron’d kill you if he knew you told that story.  He still has nightmares about it, you know.”

“I think he’d live,” he chuckled.  “Plus he was being the hero, so I made him look good.”

“Maybe,” Hermione replied with a grin.

“I’m surprised at how many people turned up,” Harry said.  “Did you see?  Even Malfoy was here.”

“That’s strange.  You’d think he’d stay away from this kind of conversation.  Suppose he was just curious?” Hermione asked.

“Maybe.  But that’s just...odd.”

“Well, seems like he’s been doing a lot of odd things lately, at any rate,” she shrugged.  “Maybe we shouldn’t question it.”

Harry laughed out loud.  “Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”

Hermione shoved him playfully and then they walked arm in arm to the common room.

 

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Harry had a difficult time falling asleep.  Ginny hadn’t had Quidditch practice that day and all his extra energy was just not dissipating.  At around 2 in the morning he got up to get a glass of water (not because he needed it, but out of boredom) and heard someone whisper his name.  Draco had opened the curtains to his bed and looked like wanted to talk.

“Potter?”

“Malfoy?”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Harry was stunned.  “What?”

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Draco groaned. “Because I was an arsehole, Potter.  Merlin, are you always this thick?”

“Um.  At the risk of sounding even more thick, what specifically are you talking about?” Harry asked.

“Calling Granger...that.  And for being a prick to you and Weasley.”

“Er...thanks.  I guess.  Malfoy?”

“Potter?”

“I meant what I said at the trial.  I don’t blame you for what happened during the War.  I’m done picking fights with you.  You have enough to deal with.  Can we just move on and be adults?  No more feuds, no more awkwardly avoiding each other.”

There was a pause.

“Fine.”

Harry went back to bed, his head more full of questions than ever.  But somehow, he finally was able to go to sleep.


	16. Just a Little Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alchemy turns into chemistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to warn you by saying I DON'T KNOW IF YOU WILL LIKE THIS. THERE ARE SOME THINGS THAT WILL MESS WITH YOUR HEADCANONS AND ARE STILL MAKING ME GO???? 
> 
> But in the end, I think they kinda fit. So that's why I kept it that way.

16\. Just a Little Change

 

Harry told Hermione about the little talk he had with Draco the next day.  Sure enough, after that night, Harry and Draco stopped overworking themselves to avoid each other, but they didn’t exchange more than a few neutral words over the next couple weeks.

 

“You’ve all done very well memorizing the basic Alchemy symbols these last few weeks.  But now it is time to put them into practice.  As I’ve said before, Alchemy is change.  And transformation.  Turning something into completely different than it used to be.  Whether you realized it or not, every single one of you has done an alchemical process before.  Sometimes it’s more obvious than others, and well...people who don’t study Alchemy don’t realize how connected it is to all kinds of magic.  Now, who here has successfully conjured a Patronus?” Professor Wright asked.  “I was told that a few of you have.”

Former members of the D.A. raised their hands.  

“Now, who would like to explain the process to those who have not?” Professor Wright asked.

Luna caught the professor’s attention.  “Professor, it was actually Harry that taught us how.  I think he’d explain it best.  But he doesn’t like to volunteer to be in the spotlight, so to speak.”

Professor Wright eyed Harry with their hawk-like stare.  “Mr. Potter, Miss Lovegood seems to think that you have a good grasp of the process.  Would you please share with the class?”

“Er...I could try,” he replied.  “Erm...Professor Lupin taught me during Third Year when the dementors affected me so badly.  It took me an entire afternoon to figure out how to do it properly.  The words themselves are easy to say, but you have to really focus your mind.  You have to find an incredibly happy thought and hold it in your mind’s eye.  And just recently I found out that in order to use the Patronus as a message, you need to carefully iterate the message in your mind, too.  But Professor, I learned the Patronus charm from a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  Doesn’t that mean it’s defense magic?”

The professor looked at him and sighed, wondering why he hadn’t figured out the connection, and turned to the rest of the class.  

“Can someone hazard a guess as to why the Patronus is indeed an alchemical process?” they asked.

Hermione raised her hand and asked, “Could it be that the Patronus takes the intangible - thoughts, memories and feelings in this case - and transforms them into something tangible?”

Professor Wright nodded.  “Five points to Gryffindor.  Now, the reason the Patronus charm is so incredibly difficult to most of wizardkind is because they lack the knowledge of how intangible turns to tangible.  Mr. Potter is correct that focus is indeed one of the most crucial elements of a successful Patronus.  Because thoughts do not have physical forms and we must weave them into something with a physical form.  It takes a great deal of energy, and that is why only great magic users have historically been able to do so.  Even moreso if that person does not know the alchemical connections.”

Harry raised his hand and asked “Is it similar to how a sorcerer would take out their memory threads they put into a Pensieve?”

This time, the professor looked genuinely impressed.  “Very similarly, Mr. Potter.  But that is merely memory and does not contain the emotional depth and feeling that a Patronus requires.”

Anthony asked, “Professor, are there Alchemy symbols for the Patronus charm?”

“Good question.  Yes there are, and whoever manages to write them down in precisely the correct way will get fifteen House points as a reward.  Grab your parchment and quills,” they instructed.  Once everyone had them ready, Professor Wright said, “You may begin.”

Much to people’s surprise, it was not Hermione who figured it out first.  Luna’s hand shot up first, but the professor checked it over and shook their head.  

“Sorry, Miss Lovegood, but that would make someone’s memories physical and then make them disappear.  That is, in fact, directly related to the Obliviate charm.  But I am impressed that you were able to get something that close.  Do try again.”

Immediately after the professor said that, Draco raised a tentative hand.  

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy, let’s see what you have,” Professor Wright said, looking at the parchment through their half-moon glasses.  “Well, that is correct, Mr. Malfoy.  Splendid job.  Fifteen points to Slytherin.”

Draco looked shocked.  There was even a slight flush on his normally stone pale face.

Mercifully for Draco, Professor Wright had already moved on to transferring the symbols onto their chalkboard and giving an explanation as to how they work.  The class’s attention was no longer on Draco, with the exception of Harry.

In past years, Harry would have found people praising Draco’s intellect a bit annoying.  But now Harry was able to put their differences aside and actually look at what Draco had accomplished.  And he had to admit, it was impressive.  But Harry’s attention had to turn back to Professor Wright before he missed anything.

At the end of class, Professor Wright set an assignment.  “For homework, I want you to attempt a Patronus charm with this new knowledge of how they work as an alchemical process.  And then I want you to write a reflection of your attempts.  For those of you who have already managed to conjure a Patronus, you might want to include if the spell took less time than before.  I want to be clear: It is absolutely fine if you are unable to conjure one.  This exercise is merely to get you used to the idea of alchemical processes being a part of spells that you may use regularly without knowing it.  Thank you for a very interactive class.  You are now dismissed.”

Draco looked worried as the class filed out, Harry noticed.

 

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It turns out that Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Blaise all headed to the library after Alchemy class, looking for some things to help them write their reflections in a more Alchemy-like way than a Charms way.  But there was only one book that would have seemed helpful.  Blaise claimed it and not even Draco could convince him to share, so the remaining three people went to their common room in mild annoyance.

Hermione at once began attempting her Patronus, this time getting it to work immediately.  Her otter flitted around the room playfully and Hermione let out a child-like giggle.  

Harry grinned.  “I don’t think that spell will give you any trouble anymore, ‘Mione,” he chuckled.

Draco looked even more anxious now.

“Oi.  What’s up?” Harry asked him.  “You got those points.  You know the symbols.  Why do you look like you’ve drunk a panic potion?”

“I can’t make a Patronus!” he shouted.  “I’ve tried.  So many times.  And it’s never worked.  I don’t have any bloody ‘happy thoughts’ like you do, not after Voldemort was living in my own bloody house,” he muttered.

“I didn’t think I had any either, the first time I tried it,” Harry shrugged, but there was an earnestness in his voice and his face.  “There has to be something.  C’mon.  Just try, Draco.”

Draco said the incantation quietly, but the spell didn’t take.  His wand had just made a slight acknowledgement of the words by vibrating slightly but then fell into its dormant state.

“See?  I told you.”

“Try a different thought,” Harry said, crossing his arms and making it clear he wasn’t going to stop annoying Draco until he tried again.  “I mean, or you could just write that you only tried once and failed miserably.  But I know you can do it,” he smirked.

Draco shook his head and took in a deep breath.  His eyes suddenly focused on Harry’s for a moment, and he quickly looked away before muttering his “expecto patronum.”

This time, a silvery form emerged from Draco’s wand.  It didn’t yet have a shape, but it was definitely there, floating around like a will o’ the wisp .

“See?  I told _you_ ,” Harry grinned smugly.

At this point, Draco was too surprised to say any kind of snarky retort.  He lowered his wand and dispersed the spell.

 

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In the middle of the night, Harry woke up to some whispering.  It was Draco again, just the same words over and over: _Expecto Patronum_.  He was practicing his Patronus.  As Harry’s eyes opened wider as he grew more awake, he saw through the curtains on his bed that the silvery form had grown larger and had a definite shape: a stag.

Harry swung open the curtains and grabbed his wand before Draco could dispel his Patronus.  

Immediately, galloping around Draco’s Patronus, was Harry’s.

Draco looked mortified.  But he didn’t stop the spell and neither did Harry.

“The memory I used...it was of my parents smiling at me.  They were proud.  I’m not even sure if it’s a real memory anymore, but it’s what I have,” Harry whispered, standing up and going towards Draco.  “Draco.  You found a memory.  What...what was it?”

Draco gulped and shook his head. He stood up and started pacing.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Harry hissed, grabbing Draco by the wrist to make him stop pacing.

A noise came from the back of Draco’s throat and he finally was able to form actual words.  

“It...it was you.  You looked at me today like...like I was not the person everyone assumes me to be.  You actually looked at me and wanted me to succeed.  You knew I could do it.  And then I actually started thinking I could.  Because you were there, cheering me on...even after all the things I’ve done,” Draco murmured, slowly looking up to meet Harry’s face.  

In the bright moonlight, and encircled by their galloping Patronuses, Harry looked at Draco as if it were the first time.  He was truly seeing Draco.  Not the pompous, spoiled boy.  Not the ex-Death Eater frightened of his own shadow.  But the real Draco.

Before either of them knew what was happening, they were kissing.


	17. Neither One Prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Understandably, Harry has a little bit of a freak-out over what just happened. Nothing is ever easy for Harry, is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kind feedback! Right now though, I'm a little worried about the pacing. Let me know how you feel about it.

  1. Neither One Prepared



 

The kiss ended almost as quickly as it started.  Harry backed away into his bed and drew his bed curtains around him.  He could hear that Draco did the same.  

What had he just done?  Malfoy was...Malfoy.  He was the pompous bigoted spoiled brat that tormented Harry and his friends for years...the one who always had some kind of snarky quip to insult anyone he thought inferior. 

But Harry had already said, admitted in an actual trial in front of hundreds of people, that that was not the real Draco...that he had only done that to uphold the Malfoy expectations and for his own survival…because he had been brought up to do nothing else.

The kiss had surprised Harry even though it was a mutual decision initiated by both of them.  For a fraction of a second, he had forgotten everything but how good it felt...how  _ right _ it felt.  And he knew that Draco felt something too, had also wanted it.  The stag Patronus...the way Draco studied him when he thought Harry wasn’t looking...those things were not coincidences.

But it could never work.  Every rational thought in his brain told him this was a bad idea. 

If any of Harry’s friends found out...or if any of the other boys in the dorm found out...the rest of their time at Hogwarts would be miserable.  Justin continued to throw verbal jabs at Draco and Harry for their decision to be just plain civil to one another.  What would he do if he found them kissing?  And Neville, who’d been tormented by Draco for years...would he feel that Harry betrayed him?  And Ron...if he found out...would he even speak to Harry ever again?

Harry could barely sleep that night.

 

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In the morning Harry went straight to Healer Green’s office rather than to his scheduled Muggle Studies.

“I kissed Draco Malfoy,” he blurted out as soon as she closed the door.  “I...I don’t know what to do.  Healer Green...this is bad.  This shouldn’t happen.  Not me and him.”

She studied him for a moment.  “Did you actually want to kiss him?  Did he want to kiss you?”

“Yes, but...it was so sudden and...I just wasn’t thinking!” he growled, making his hands into fists.  “This can never happen!”

“Harry, it did happen.  And obviously, you’re emotional about it for some reason.  You said you wanted the kiss, right?  Are you upset that you wanted it, or upset that you can’t, because of your own reasoning, continue to do so?  Is it because you haven’t truly forgiven him for what he did to you when you were younger?”

“No it’s...ugh! Why is this so complicated?!” he whined.  “I’ve...I’ve gotten past what he did.  I know why he did those things and that that wasn’t him.  But other people...they...I don’t want to...it’s complicated.  They’ll never understand.  It won’t matter that I’m my own person, it won’t matter that I’ve managed to forgive my childhood enemy for our petty feuds.  All they’ll see is that their Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, choosing someone who was on the wrong side when it counted the most.  I’ll be Undesirable Number One all over again.  And my friends will never forgive me, either.”

“Harry, I might be pointing out the obvious, but it was just one kiss.  Nothing has to continue if you feel uncomfortable,” Healer Green said.

“But I want it to,” he whispered.  “For the first time in a very long time I actually felt... _ right _ .  In that moment, it was just me and him.  No war, no fighting, no conflict.  Just me and him.”

“So you’re afraid of wanting more,” she replied, folding her hands and looking at him, contemplating.  “Because you believe that if you get into a relationship that people will react poorly, including your closest friends.  And because of your status in our world, it will be put into the public eye and that can cause problems that most wizards do not have to deal with.”

Harry shrugged.  “I guess.”

Healer Green looked Harry in the eyes.  “Harry, there comes a time where you have to start thinking of what  _ you _ want and doing things because it’s right for  _ you _ .  I know you’re a diehard Gryffindor, but sometimes you have to be brave for  _ yourself _ .  You spent seventeen years being the Chosen One, but you rarely ever got to do anything because you  _ chose _ to.  You did things because you are selfless and wanted to help those who need it.  But Harry, you need to care for yourself too.  And if starting something romantic with Draco is what you need, then I firmly believe that everything else will fall into place.  You’ll find a way to tell your friends.  You’ll find a way to help your friends accept it.  And you’ll find ways of dealing with the press, which, I might point out, is something you’ve been dealing with for years already with much grace and dignity for a teenager.”

“But I’m afraid I already ruined it.  It was over almost as soon as it started,” he murmured.

“I don’t think that’s the case, Harry.  But I will say this...you need to actually sit down and talk with Draco in order to figure out where to go from here.  If you don’t, you may be stuck in this limbo for a long time.  And that’s no way to live your life happily.”

Harry looked down at his feet and took a deep breath.  This could never be easy, could it?

 

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After classes for the day were over, Harry found Draco in a library alcove, attempting to absorb the words on the page of an obscure transfiguration text and failing miserably.

“We have to talk,” Harry whispered, making sure they were out of anyone’s earshot.

Draco looked up, looking surprised that Harry would even talk to him after what happened.  “Fine. But...not here.  Sound carries,” he hissed.

“Where?” Harry asked.

Draco thought for a second, and then a look of pain crossed his face.  “Room of Requirement.  I...I can’t think of anywhere else.  All the other places are blocked off or destroyed.  You go first.  I’ll get there after you.”

“You’re sure?” Harry replied, concerned at the memories that that place would dredge up.

“Yes.  Now go, Potter!” he growled.  A nearby student had started down the aisle and Harry took off before they could see their interaction.

 

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Harry paced in the corridor, thinking of what he needed.   _ I need a place where Draco and I can talk.  Where nobody can find us out.  And that doesn’t look like how it did when we were in here last time. _

The door appeared and Harry slipped inside before anyone spotted him.  It looked like someone’s living room.  Comfortable chairs sat facing each other next to a warm fireplace.  It reminded Harry of Healer Green’s office.

All he had to do was wait.  Even though it was maybe fifteen minutes, Harry had started to think that Draco wouldn’t meet up after all and that this was some kind of sick joke.

But sure enough, as Harry was debating whether to get up and leave, Draco came through the door.

“Had to get past Peeves,” Draco grunted.  “He was throwing toy snakes at me.  Didn’t want to lead him here,” he explained, sitting in the chair across from Harry.

“So,” Harry said.

“So,” Draco echoed.  “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that last night.  It was impulsive and stupid,” Draco muttered, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting anxiously.

“Draco, it was me as much as you,” Harry replied.  “And it was...it was nice.”

“But you went and hid,” Draco scoffed.  “Because it was so  _ nice _ .”

“I was scared, Draco.  I still am.”

“You’re still scared of me.  I should have known,” Draco murmured, starting to  get up. 

Harry stopped Draco.  “No.  I’m scared  _ for _ you.  For  _ us _ .  I wanted that kiss, Draco.  And I want more.  And I’m scared because I know it won’t be easy if people find out.”

“You want...more?” Draco asked in barely more than a whisper.  

“Yes, I do.  How many times do I have to say it?” Harry replied.  “And I am willing to take any risk that comes with it as long as I can have that feeling I had when we were kissing again and again and again.  Because for the first time in forever, something finally made  _ sense _ .  Draco, please...can you give me a chance?”

Draco looked at Harry almost in awe before cupping his face.  “Harry...I…”

This time, Draco definitely started the kiss.  It went from almost chaste to passionate in a matter of seconds.  But they had to come up for air eventually.

“Is that...is that a yes?” Harry panted, giving his goofy Potter smile.

Draco rolled his eyes.  “No.  The kiss was just to mess with your head.  Of course it was a yes, you daft prick,” he snorted, moving to sit on Harry’s lap.

For a while they just sat there, relishing each other’s presence, playing with each other’s hair and occasionally kissing.  But that didn’t mean their anxieties had disappeared.  For the time being, they decided to keep this a secret.  Nobody had to know yet.  So when the time to be back in the common room edged too close for comfort, they carefully made sure to leave the Room of Requirement at different times and take different routes back so nobody would suspect a thing.  

They both slept well that night, though they wished they could close the distance between each other.  But they knew that that would take some time.


	18. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco start acting more friendly to each other in public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know it's been a few days. I'm still here! I was just getting things ready for my mother's graduation (Bachelor's in Music Education) that was today and so I didn't have time to write.
> 
> It might be another few days before I get to post again, but I promise that this show will go on!

  1. Secrets



 

Harry and Draco decided that it would be best to show a public friendship before admitting to anyone that they were in a relationship.  That way they could slowly usher the ones around them into the idea of Draco and Harry being together romantically.  But they also were trying to do this organically, though they met in the Room of Requirement every day during free times.

They had the first opportunity when Blaise got exceptionally bored and decided to make a disgusting display of what Skiving Snackboxes could do.  This resulted in Blaise going to the Hospital Wing just before Herbology class.  Due to the nature of the display (it was new and improved Skiving Snackbox), it was clear Blaise would not be going to class at all that day.

Draco had no partner for that class, and neither did Harry, since Hermione was paired up with Neville.  So Draco simply sat down next to Harry.  

“Remember, we need a good mark in this class, so don’t do something stupid like stick your finger into a venomous tentacula’s mouth,” Draco warned, though Harry knew it didn’t carry the sting that Draco’s quips used to.

“You really do think I’m an idiot, don’t you?” Harry scoffed.  

“No comment,” Draco replied.

Harry rolled his eyes.  “Let’s just get these gillyweed plants into their new tanks before they dry out.  Do you have the new tanks ready?” he asked, getting ready to transfer one of the plants.

Draco nodded.  “On my count: one, two three!”

It went smoothly, and even though Draco had bumped into Neville at some point (Neville being over-enthusiastic about the speed of the plant transferring and Draco being “in the zone”), he simply apologized and continued on the task.  

Neville’s jaw was practically on the floor.  As was anyone else nearby.  But neither Draco nor Harry said anything about it.  The rest of the class was oddly quiet after that, as was Transfiguration and Charms, where they were again paired up with each other.  They continued their vocal sparring a little, but they actually smiled at each other in rare moments and didn’t complain if either made a mistake or if their spell fizzled.

However, in Alchemy, Luna sat next to Harry (she said it was because the other Ravenclaws were tired of her eccentricities that day but were too nice to tell her to go away) and that left Hermione to reluctantly sit next to Draco.  Because Professor Wright never let people sit in the farthest row back unless it was absolutely necessary.  

When it came to the partners activity for that lesson, Luna looked at Harry and grinned.  “I can tell you have wrackspurts.  But they’re different than before.  Happier, I think.”

“You’re not even wearing your spectrespecs, though,” Harry replied with a smile as he started picking out which symbols would be best for the formula they were working on (tin to copper).

“Oh, I can tell by your facial expression.  It really gives you away, I think,” Luna explained, finishing the formula he had started easily.  

She aimed her wand at the tin can they’d been given and gave the formula a try. 

“Ah!  There we go!  It worked!” Luna gleamed.  “Now you try it, Harry!”

Much to his surprise, Harry’s first attempt worked as well.  They had more formulas to work out before class was over, but during that time he looked over at Hermione and Draco to see how they were doing.

Hermione and Draco were doing well, considering they had never really held a civil conversation before.  It was slow and awkward at first, mostly checking each other’s work through nods and grunts of approval, but then when Hermione found out a successful way to make a formula that was half as long as what Draco had drawn up, he couldn’t help but voice his approval in actual words.

“Well done, Granger,” he said, with no malice or sneering.  “I hadn’t thought of that.  That lowers the amount of magical energy you need by...about 80 percent, if I’m correct”

“Oh, well, yours was good too, and technically correct.  I remember seeing that one in a library book... _ In Praxi Alchimia _ , I think.  It’s not the only way I saw but it’s probably the most energy efficient besides...well besides mine.” Hermione replied.

“I think I actually have that one at the Manor, so that’s probably where I got it from,” Draco shrugged.  “You should be proud, out-doing a formula that’s been in use for over three hundred years.”

“Yes, you should be, Miss Granger,” Professor Wright agreed.  “I’m pleased to see you two working together, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger.  I would like to see this happen again sometime.  And the same to you, Mr. Potter and Miss Lovegood.  Very inventive formulas happening here, and in record time.  Well done, everyone.  Class dismissed.  And don’t forget that essay due on Monday.”

In a rush to get his essay done before the Quidditch match that Saturday  (it was currently Friday), Harry headed straight towards the library.  He found himself flanked by Hermione and Luna, with Draco behind. 

There was only one free table left, so the four of them sat there, with some hesitation on Draco’s part. 

“Come sit down, Draco,” Luna insisted.  “I overheard you talking about  _ In Praxi Alchimia _ ...my father has a copy of that too, but it used to belong to your mother.  It has her name written in it.  Should I ask him to return it?”

Draco slid into a chair.

“Errrr...no.  I think it’s good where it is,” he replied.  “Mother never even took Alchemy anyway.  She just got that as a gift, probably.  Father never took it either, so I’m the only one that uses our copy.”

Harry and Hermione just raised their eyebrows.

“We’re distantly related,” Draco explained flatly.   

“So...you’re basically cousins?” Harry smirked.

“Oh yes, but Draco doesn’t like when I call him that,” Luna replied.  “He almost hexed me for coming up to him when I first got to Hogwarts and saying ‘Hello, Cousin!’ in front of his rather large friends.”

Harry stifled a snicker.  Badly.  But after a lot of being glared at by Hermione and Draco, he contained himself.

“Back to Alchemy, yes?” Harry said sheepishly.

“Yes,” Luna agreed.  “But Draco, I’m curious.  If neither your mother nor your father never took Alchemy, what made you want to take it?”

“Yes, why?” Hermione asked.  “You obviously have a gift for it, but there’s something else, isn’t there?”

“I...suppose,” Draco replied.  “I...I wanted to become a Healer.  It’s one of the classes that’s required.”

“A Healer?” Harry repeated. 

“Yes.  Why are you all looking at me like that?” Draco said impatiently.

Hermione was genuinely surprised and it showed in her face.  “Er...nothing.”

They worked in silence after that.

Later on that night, when Harry and Draco met in the Room of Requirement, instead of sitting there in companionable silence or kissing as they had been so far, they talked.

“Draco, I think it’s great you want to be a Healer.  Why did it seem like you were trying to hide it?” Harry asked, laying down on a couch with his head on Draco’s lap.

“Because I don’t know if it’ll work out.  I don’t know if the Ministry will let me get a job.  I don’t know if anyone will trust me to let me be their Healer.  And because people will think that I’m only doing it to try to make up for all the bad things I did.”

“Well...I would let you be my Healer,” Harry replied.  “You’re very intelligent.  You have very gentle hands.  And you think fast.  But...are you only trying to be a Healer in order to make up for what you did?”

“Erm...well...it’s not the only thing,” Draco admitted.  “But I do want to help people.  I’m tired of causing pain.  I want to make things right for once.  And I want...I want to get out of the Manor and live on my own.  There’s too many memories back there.”

“I’m sure your mother would let you have the money to move away right now,” Harry replied. “Right?”

“I mean, maybe, if it was only up to her,” Draco shrugged.  “But it’s really my father that controlled the accounts.  And the idea of a Malfoy living somewhere other than the Manor would disgust him.  Therefore, Mother wouldn’t do it because it’s against Father’s wishes.  She’s scared of him, Harry.  And I think I am too.  Even though he’s serving a life sentence in Azkaban. It’s stupid, I know.  But he’s the reason we’re stuck in this mess.  Him and Bellatrix.  But at least dear old Aunt Bella didn’t live with us.”

“You are not your parents, Draco.  Or your Aunt.  I’ll say it again.  I think it’s great that you want to be a Healer.  It shows everyone that you are your own person and you want to do good in this world,” Harry murmured, snuggling into Draco’s torso.

Draco sighed and played with Harry’s hair.  “I really want to believe you.”

Harry paused for a moment.

“Wait...so that’s how you knew that spell to help Jemma!” he exclaimed.

“Er...well not exactly.  That was...I learned that because of…erm...because...”

“Because you needed to?” Harry asked softly.  “Draco, I’m sorry.”

Draco shook his head.  

“Not your fault.  Just something that happens when you have a Dark Lord in your house who just happens to love hurting and torturing people for days or weeks before he kills them.  I tried to help them.  But that was all I could do,” he replied, his voice breaking up a little.

“Oh...Draco…” Harry whispered, sitting up and embracing Draco in a tight hug before kissing him tenderly.  

It started getting pretty heated, with a little bit of grinding and started getting towards even more...but then Harry stopped it.  

“Hold on, Draco.  I really do want to...I promise I do.  But we’ve got to get back before lights out.”

The whine Draco let out nearly made Harry want to jump his bones right there, but he contained himself.  

“Fine.  But I get to leave first this time,” Draco said.  “Not everyone has an invisibility cloak.  If I get caught I’m as good as expelled.”

Harry grinned and gave Draco one last peck.  

“Okay.  But hurry, okay?  I have to get to bed early to get ready for Quidditch in the morning.  You gonna cheer me on?” he winked.

“Pompous ass,” Draco snorted as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing to be so kind with your feedback! You're the best!


	19. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quidditch is a very violent sport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm here! I know it's been a while but I've just been exhausted and had like no time this week to write, between work and holiday stuff. Anyway, here's a chapter! Thank you for all your kind feedback!

  1. Gryffindor vs Slytherin



 

Harry awoke the next morning with a nervous excitement.  He pulled on his Quidditch robes quickly so he could eat a decent breakfast and meet with the team, but not without realizing that Draco had also awoken and was looking at him with fascination.  He winked discretely and then started to head to the Great Hall, but then was stopped by Justin, who was blocking the dormitory door.

“Excuse me, Justin, if I could just get through-” he started.

“You see, I don’t care very much for sports,” Justin interrupted.  “I was always more academically minded.  I would have gotten into the best muggle school in the country if I didn’t end up coming here, you know.  Ah, but enough about me.  Right now I want to talk about you.  You and your sudden friendship with all these  _ Slytherins _ ,” he rambled, though he spat the last word like it was some sort of curse.  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.  Sitting next to the Malfoy brat in almost every class, hanging out with him in the library, not to mention that you  _ sleep _ next to him as if he wasn’t a bloody Death Eater,” he said, every word dripping with disgust.

“There are no Death Eaters at this school.  I’m just being civil to my fellow students,” Harry replied icily.  “You’d do good to do the same.”  
“Oh, I’m being perfectly civil.  I’m wishing you well on your match today.  But some might think that with you being all buddy-buddy with the Slytherins, you’d be too distracted or too ‘civil’ to win for your own House.  I’d be careful, Harry.  Remember whose side you’re actually playing for,” Justin shrugged, finally allowing Harry to leave.

Harry mostly lost his appetite out of anger but managed to eat a little bit of eggs before heading to the pitch.  But walking out in the open air helped him clear his head a little bit so what was left was mostly excitement once again.

Ginny was there already, of course, but Harry thought she looked a little bit pale.  After all, this was her first game as Captain.  

“All right, Gin?” he asked.

“Fine,” she answered, and he had a feeling that she wouldn’t say any more than that.  She was still focused and determined, no doubt running through the many strategies they had practiced for weeks.

The rest of the team filed in soon after, and soon Ginny was in her element once again, pointedly highlighting certain plays she wanted the team to use and going over the weaknesses she had noticed of the Slytherin players.  

As they flew out onto the pitch, Harry was pleased to see that Ron had showed up on one of his rare days off.  Ron looked...tired...but otherwise okay.

Harry waved at Ron with a grin and then shouted “Weasley is our King!” before doing a few loop-de-loops and then heading to his starting position.  Ron rolled his eyes but kept smiling and cheering Harry on.

Harry’s heart was pounding even before the starting whistle blew.   _ Find the Snitch.  Find the Snitch _ , his mind raced, just like it had every other Quidditch game he’d ever played.  It was invigorating.

While he searched for the Snitch, he heard Ginny and the other Chasers score their first points and mentally cheered.  But he was so focused on looking for the Snitch that he nearly collided with one of the Slytherin Beaters.  The girl was so startled she nearly fell off her broom.  Her eyes were daggers after that, even though he shouted his apologies to her as he zoomed past. 

As the game went on, Harry was starting to get discouraged.  Though the rest of Gryffindor was playing well (Ginny truly deserved her spot as Captain), Slytherin wasn’t far behind.  It would probably be up to him to win the game. How could he have lost sight of the Snitch so easily?  Was he losing his touch?  Did he, on some level, want to lose to Slytherin because of the way he felt about Draco now?  But then, he spotted it near the Slytherin goal posts.

As he flew closer, he also saw that Ginny was heading in the same direction and grinned.  More points for Gryffindor.

But then he heard the telltale hums of the Bludgers whizzing closer too.  He heard Ginny cry out behind him as one hit her in the chest.  Harry looked back to see what was happening and saw her fall.  The game had to end.  Now.  But the instant his fingers closed around the Snitch, he remembered all too late that there was another Bludger to look out for.  It crashed into the side of his head and he instantly lost consciousness.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

He came to only a moment later when he was still on the field.  Someone had magically slowed his fall so only his head was injured.  He saw only vague shapes because of both his injury and the fact that his glasses were broken once again.  He saw a flash of red hair near him on the ground too, with a blond in Slytherin robes nearby as well as Madame Pomfrey’s scarlet robes, each of them saying some sort of spell.  Another red-head was standing nearby, shouting at the blond.  But Harry couldn’t see more than that because a fresh wave of pain came over him and he passed out again.

“Harry, wake up!” the blond shouted another moment later, clenching Harry’s shoulder, being careful not to jostle Harry’s head.

Harry felt nauseated and dizzy but stayed awake.  “Draco?” he murmured.  “Hurts.”

“I know, Harry.  Madame Pomfrey’s working on it right now,” Draco said, grasping Harry’s hand tightly.  As Draco said, Madame Pomfrey was gradually reducing the pain in Harry’s head and he could feel split skin weave itself back together.

“Ginny?” he asked, trying to look over.

“She’ll be okay.  Broke a collarbone from the Bludger and cracked a few ribs in the fall.  I helped Madame Pomfrey fix her up.  She’ll be sore, but she’ll be okay.”

Harry sighed with relief.  “Good.”

At this point, realizing Ginny would be okay, Ron came over, looking more than a little annoyed. 

“Malfoy, what the hell are you trying to do?!  First Ginny and now Harry?!  Why won’t you leave them bloody well alone?!”

“I was putting slivers of your sister’s collarbone back into place before they had a chance to rupture her internal organs,” Draco replied calmly.  “Madame Pomfrey asked me to do that while she eased your sister’s pain.  And now I’m holding Harry’s hand and making sure he stays awake while Madame Pomfrey fixes him up because has a very nasty concussion.  Any other questions?”

“Oh boy do I-” Ron started, but was elbowed by Hermione before he could finish the sentence.

“Ron, stop,” Harry rasped.  “It’s okay.  We’ll talk.”

Ron seethed but was silent as Harry was taken up to the Hospital Wing, holding Draco’s hand the entire time.

“So let me get this straight,” Ron said angrily, pacing between Harry’s and Ginny’s hospital beds.  “Draco suddenly decided he wants to be a Healer and now everybody trusts him.  He was doing spells on both my sister and my best friend without a second thought and nobody thought ‘Hey, maybe having a former Death Eater do this isn’t such a good idea’?”

“God, Ronald,” Ginny groaned.  “Draco helped stop a fourth-year Gryffindor from getting a brain bleed after she hit her head at Quidditch tryouts.  Madame Pomfrey said he saved her life.  So when Madame Pomfrey trusted him enough to do what he did with me, I wasn’t about to say no, not when I was in such- OW- pain!” Ginny gasped, because she was still very sore.  “And guess what?  I’ll be perfectly fine in a day or so!  Because he stopped it from getting worse!” she grinned, though she looked a little pale.

Ron was still glowering.  “But why the hell is Draco still HOLDING HARRY’S HAND?”

Hermione and Ginny looked at them expectantly and both Draco and Harry blushed.

“Actually, we don’t know.  Holding hands is not a requirement for keeping someone awake,” Hermione replied.  “Nor is running out to the field and healing people when you’re not a nurse or a Healer yet.”

“Er...surprise?” Harry said sheepishly, raising the hand that clasped Draco’s.  “We’re uh...together.  Sort of.”

“Have you lost your mind?!” Ron roared.

“I don’t actually know the answer to that question after what just happened,” Harry answered, “but this was a thing before the Bludger to the head, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s where you’ve been disappearing every day?” Hermione snorted.  “Well, at least now I know it’s not you spending time alone in some abandoned classroom brooding like I thought.”

“Oi!” Harry retorted.  “I never even thought to ask where you go during your free time!”

“Because she’s always in the library,” Draco, Ron, and Ginny chorused.

Harry attempted to roll his eyes, but it just made him dizzy again, though for the most part the pain had subsided to gentler waves.  Madame Pomfrey worked miracles, that was for sure.

“And you’re just...okay with this?” Ron asked Hermione.

“I...uh...I didn’t know about them dating until now, but I thought that them trying to bury the hatchet was very...mature,” Hermione answered.  “And Draco actually has apologized to me, on multiple occasions now.  We worked together in Arithmancy and he was more than civil.  I am here to get my N.E.W.T.s, Ron.  I don’t care what else happens as long as my friends are okay.  And Harry has been more okay in these last few weeks than he has been in  _ months _ .  If Draco has something to do with that, then I think I have no business telling them otherwise.”

Draco’s eyebrows rose.  “Uh...thanks, Hermione.”

“You’re welcome, Draco.  Now, Ginny, Harry, Draco, if you will excuse us, Ron and I need to talk,” Hermione replied, escorting Ron out of the room.

“You mean snog!” Ginny shouted after them, and Ron flipped her off while Madame Pomfrey wasn’t looking.

Harry laughed but again it made him dizzy.  But then he looked at Draco.  Then Ginny.  

“I’m still not sure what happened,” Harry admitted.  “How did the Bludgers...I thought…”

“The Beater girl was pissed that you made her look foolish.  So she and the other Beater teamed up and aimed the Bludgers at you and Ginny.  You, because they hate you, and Ginny, because they think you and her are still an item.  But they’ve been kicked off the team now, so there’s that.”

Ginny swore, which earned her a sharp look from Madame Pomfrey.  “Merlin’s beard.  Why do they always try to hurt the girl to get to the guy?  That’s utter bullsh-erm...dragon dung!”

“Well, now that they saw...well...what I did,” Draco shrugged, “I don’t think they’ll be going after you anymore, Weasley.”

“You mean immediately run to Harry when he got hurt, start shouting asking what to do for him, and then holding Harry’s hand and whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he was getting patched up?” Ginny grinned smugly.

Draco blushed.  “I ran to you first, kid.”

“You and I both know that you wanted to go to him first,” Ginny replied, still with the smug grin on her face.  

At this point Madame Pomfrey said that Harry and Ginny both needed rest and told Draco to leave.  

“See you later, Weasley,” Draco sighed, waving at Ginny before leaning over to kiss Harry chastely on the forehead.  “And you, do everything that Madame Pomfrey tells you to, you stubborn git.  I want you healthy and out of here asap, got it?”

“Fine,” Harry sighed.  “But...are you going to be okay out there?  People will...now that they saw us…”

“I will deal with it.  You just focus on getting healed,” Draco said insistently.

Harry scowled in that way that Draco thought was adorable.  “Just remember where I told you the invisibility cloak is if it gets to be too much.”

“Fine,” Draco huffed, now being almost pushed out of the door by Madame Pomfrey.

Harry would be out of the Hospital Wing soon.  Draco could survive the gossip on his own until then.  Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a little heads up: My birthday is in a few days and I don't know how much time I will have to write this week. But I swear I will keep this story going.


	20. Everything's Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People don't necessarily take kindly to the news of Harry and Draco's relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy
> 
> Happy New Year!
> 
> I know it's been a while since my last posting. The reason why is totally boring but I hope you understand. Between my birthday and work and holiday stuff, I've just been busy and tired. Anyway, I love that you are having fun with this story so I can't bear making you wait any longer.

  1.  Everything’s Fine



 

Luckily, Harry only had to be kept in the Hospital Wing overnight for observation.  Ginny was discharged at the same time as well. Madame Pomfrey literally did her magic to make it so.  By the morning, other than a dull headache that was not unlike one Harry was used to getting from being dehydrated, he was absolutely fine.  Ginny was even better than before, with the healing potions she had been given helping some of the lesser injuries she had gotten during all of the rigorous Quidditch practices healing in addition to the bigger ones she had sustained during the match.

The first thing Harry did after being freed from Madame Pomfrey’s care was go to the library, where he knew he would find Draco and most likely Hermione as well.  But they were not there.  Luna, however, was.

“Hello, Luna.  Have you seen Hermione?  And er...Draco?” Harry asked, nervously running his fingers through his hair.  

“Well, there was quite a commotion this morning in the Great Hall during breakfast, you see,” Luna replied.  “Draco came down with a black eye.  I don’t know how that happened, but I know that Justin Finch-Fletchley and a few others that dislike my cousin were crowding around Draco and jeering at him when he came down this morning.  Even Neville tried to keep people from joining in, but he got a stinging hex to the eyes.  It was quite a disturbance.  The owls didn’t even want to deliver their post during that.”

Great.  Just what Harry was afraid of.

“Oh,” Harry said, his face falling.  “You didn’t hear where they might have gone, did you?” he asked.

“Well,” Luna answered, “if I were Draco, and if Justin Finch-Fletchley shared my dormitory, I wouldn’t go there.  Much too risky right now.  And if they aren’t in the Hospital Wing, then the only other places with things to ease injuries are in the greenhouses or the potions classroom.  And, knowing Draco’s affinity for potion-making and that Professor Slughorn is the Head of Slytherin, that’s the more likely of the two they would go to.”

“Thanks, Luna,” Harry replied, giving her a brief hug.  “And you?  Are you all right?  Nobody hexed you, did they?”

“No,” she replied.  “They tried, but I blocked them.  But I also only noticed the fight right at the end.  I was reading an advanced copy of the latest Quibbler that had a fascinating story that Father wrote on Gulping Plimpies,” she shrugged.  “I won’t keep you any longer, Harry.  Draco needs you right now.  Go to him.”

He nodded and took off for the dungeons.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When Harry arrived he found that Neville had accompanied Draco and Hermione.  His eyes were a little red, but not swollen anymore thanks to Hermione’s quick potion work.  Hermione was putting a bit of dittany into a mortar and pestle next to a morbid looking Draco.

Harry was understandably a little anxious at starting a conversation. 

“Er...so...can I ask what happened?” he inquired softly, searching his mind for a soothing spell for Neville’s eyes and coming up with nothing.

“It was Justin,” Draco scoffed.  “Finally said what was really on his mind.  He thinks I corrupted you somehow.  Says that you are a lousy Chosen One.  And that ‘No wonder Harry’s been inseparable with the Slytherins, he’s fucking their golden boy.’  He said that all of your hero stuff was just an act.  That you’re fraternizing with the enemy. I...reacted in poor taste and he clocked me,” Draco shrugged and sighed.

“His exact words were: Potter must think he could do anything now that he’s the hero,” Neville growled, applying a thick purple potion on and around his eyelids.  “Harry, you’re not like that.  I know you’re not.  I trust your judgement and I always have.  And Draco’s been a completely different person this year to me and everyone else.  So, when Justin started getting others to jump in during breakfast, I stepped up to get them to stop.  They tried to hit Draco with the hex and they got me instead.”

“I’m sorry, Neville,” Draco said softly.  “You didn’t have to get involved. I deserve their anger and their hexes.”

“Shut up,” Neville snorted.  “I did what a good person would do when they see someone being taunted and outnumbered.”

“Thank you, Neville,” Harry said earnestly, squeezing Neville’s shoulder affectionately.  “Draco means to say thank you.  And so do I.  But honestly, you shouldn’t have to defend my honor.  I learned to stop listening to those things a long time ago.”

“I’m your friend, Harry.  That’s what friends do,” Neville replied.

Harry couldn’t say anything to that.  But something was niggling in his brain.  “What about the teachers?  Didn’t any of them do something?  Why didn’t you go to the Hospital Wing?”

“Professor McGonagall gave the others a stern talking-to,” Hermione answered.  “Took fifty house points from every House.”

“Turns out that the Houses like to join together in their hatred against me,” Draco snorted.  “Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff because I’m a traitor to wizardkind, and Slytherin because I either gave their House a worse name, or gave evidence to turn in their parents.  And they all hate that I’m dating you, Harry. Who knew there would be such unity?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Some of the people aiming jinxes and hexes at Draco got hit with them and had to go to the Hospital Wing,” Hermione explained.  “We...didn’t feel like it would be a good idea to go there.”

Harry was quite visibly anxious by now.  “How many people were trying to attack you?” he gulped.

“Around a dozen,” Hermione answered.  “I was lucky I didn’t get hit with anything.  Luna’s really excellent at defensive spells.  She covered me while I helped Draco up.”

“She is amazing,” Harry agreed.  “She looked just as calm as ever just now when I saw her in the library.”

Hermione applied a poultice to Draco’s black eye.  “Let that dry.  Keep it on there until you go to bed tonight.”

Draco sighed.  “I’m well aware of how gurdyroot poultices work, but...thank you, really.  Erm...you don’t have a spell that makes it stink less, do you?”

“None that wouldn’t ruin the effects of the poultice, sorry,” Hermione replied apologetically.

“I still appreciate it,” Draco said.  “It’s kinda hard to see what you’re doing when your eye is swollen.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hermione replied as she cleaned up her things.

Harry sighed.  “I think it’s time for another of my talks, tonight, isn’t it?  Well, I think I know what I’ll be talking about.  Draco, could you sit by me while I speak tonight?”

“It’s probably the safest spot for me, to be honest,” Draco shrugged.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

This time there was a lot more tension in the crowd as they walked into the courtyard for Harry’s talk that night.  Even the First Years were quieter than normal.

This time, McGonagall sat on the side of the crowd, clearly ready to step in if things got bad.

“I know you have questions, but I reserve the right to refuse to answer to them,” Harry began.  “And I won’t be answering anything until the end.  Right now, I’m going to tell a story about a stinging hex.”

A few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats, and not because they were the bulky stone benches again.  They had all witnessed the squabble that morning and how Neville left it.

“Most, if not all of you, know that Hermione, Ron, Luna Lovegood, the goblin Griphook, and Mr. Ollivander had been held caught and brought to Malfoy Manor during the Wizarding War.  But why did they not bring me to Voldemort right away?  Simply put, they couldn’t recognize me.  Hermione had cast a stinging hex on me so my face would be swollen up and hopefully unrecognizable.  Any other method of concealment, you see, could be taken off.”

There was a murmur in the crowd and many looked at Hermione in both awe and fear.

“When they asked for our names and blood status, I came up with a fake name.  As my friends can attest, I’m not the best with names.  And the Death Eaters couldn’t ignore my resemblance to...well...myself.  So they brought in Draco to see if it really was me.”

The crowd now looked at Draco, who was reminiscing about being the incredible bouncing ferret.  That would be so much easier than enduring this kind of attention right now.

“You know what Draco told them?  He said that he couldn’t be sure it was me.  Even though my scar was there and getting more visible by the minute.  Even though I was wearing the same damn glasses I had worn for so long.  Even though he’d gone to school with me and wreaked havoc in my life for the past seven years.  Why do you suppose he did that?”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

“It was because he is not what his father expected him to be, or what the Death Eaters expected him to be, or what the pureblood bigots expected him to be.  It’s because he is a human being with empathy.  He was tired of seeing all the death and torture and pain.  He deliberately misled the Death Eaters for my sake.”

Draco gulped as the crowd murmured. 

“Because of Draco’s misdirection, we were able to survive and escape.  That is a fact,” Harry declared.  “Now, this morning, someone aimed a stinging hex at Draco and accidentally hit my good friend Neville Longbottom.  Whoever did that is lucky that Neville is one of the strongest people I know.  I know how much a stinging hex hurts.  But there is quite a difference in why both stinging hexes happened.  In my experience that I just told you about, I was hexed in order to help save my life.  Whoever aimed their stinging hex today meant to do it purely to hurt another person.  That is something I will never condone.  Especially not to fellow students, no matter who they are or where they come from.  Hogwarts is there for everyone who needs it, not just those who you deem worthy.  And everyone deserves to be safe here.”

A few people clapped, but it died out quickly.

“Now I will answer your questions.  But remember what I said before,” Harry explained.  

A First Year Ravenclaw boy raised his hand.  “Is it true that the swelling from the Stinging Hex lasts for hours and hours if it’s not treated?”

“Yes.  And it hurts like hell,” Harry answered.  

A Slytherin girl asked the next question.  

“Is it true that you and Draco Malfoy are, er, together?”

“Yes.”

The audience’s murmuring grew louder, with multiple people shouting out rude things at Harry and Draco.

“But how could that be?” asked a Hufflepuff Fifth Year.  “After all he’s done to you?  To all of us?”

“Because of what I just told you, among other things.  I shouldn’t have to elaborate.”

They grew louder again.

“Enough!” shouted McGonagall.  “The next person to speak out of turn will face detention and a loss of House Points.  Mr. Potter, please continue.”

Harry nodded his appreciation.  

“For my entire time in the Wizarding World, people have looked at me like some kind of savior.  A leader.  Even a teacher at some point.  But honestly, most of the time, I had no idea what I was doing.  I only got by on luck and with help from friends.  Those of you who had been a part of Dumbledore’s Army heard me say that before.”

He paused.

“My point is that, even then, you all had faith in me to make the right decisions.  You believed in me.  You believed that my choices would help save us all.  So when I say yes, I am dating Draco Malfoy, why can’t you trust in that decision?  I have been through so much.  I lived with evil and abuse for so many years.  I know what abuse feels like.  I know what the presence of evil feels like.  I know all the red flags.  Draco raises none.  All I ask is that you please trust me.  And if possible, trust him too.  Hogwarts is our home.  All of ours.  You’ll do good to remember that.”

And with that, another of Harry’s speeches was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I love your comments and feedback! You all make this worth it!


	21. It Takes Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's self esteem is wavering. Healer Green tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I'm so so sorry that it took this long for me to plunk out another chapter. I'm still here, I didn't forget about you, and I love that you continue to support me throughout the writing of this fic. This is a short chapter, because I didn't have a lot of time to come up with more plot. But it helps us figure out what state of mind Harry is in about the whole situation. So here you go.

  1. It Takes Time



 

Harry sat on one of the squashy armchairs in Healer Green’s office, petting Pip absentmindedly as he tried to figure out his thoughts.  After his speech, despite hopeful message, he was feeling like absolute shit.  He’d had a bad night and hadn’t slept despite his exhaustion.  He felt bad for skipping Muggle Studies again, but Professor Gladwyn basically  _ told _ him to go.

“Harry, you were very brave to say what you did last night,” Healer Green said, trying to meet his eyes.

“I don’t feel like it,” he shrugged, flicking a bit of owl poop off of his robes.  “It felt like a confession.  It was like...like I did something wrong.  Like they were all expecting me to apologize.  Is it wrong, what I did?  What I want to do?  With Draco?”

Healer Green shook her head firmly and placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s knee.  “No.  You are not doing anything wrong, Harry.  Please believe me when I say that.”

Harry shrugged again.  “Even if that is the case, then I’m still being a shitty boyfriend.  Can’t even keep people from beating my boyfriend up.  You heard about that, right?”

She nodded.  “Mr. Finch-Fletchley has mandatory meetings with me now during his free periods, as do the others that participated in the fight.  But Harry, what happened to Draco is not your fault.  There is no way you could have prevented it.”

“Except for staying away from Draco.  Which I failed to do miserably.”

“It’s not a failure to have feelings for someone,” said Healer Green.  “You’re human.  Love is the most powerful feeling there is, and it’s there whether we want it to be or not.  Now Harry, let me ask you...would avoiding Draco help  _ you _ at all?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled.

“Harry, when you first told me about your feelings for Draco, I know you were scared.  You were afraid that your friends wouldn’t understand and that they’d abandon and hate you.  But from what I’ve observed, that isn’t the case.  I see Ronald Weasley’s Pigwidgeon fluttering across the Great Hall all the time to deliver letters to you.  Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom still happily sit next to you and study with you.  They’ve seen you and Draco together, have talked to you both and acknowledge you as a couple.  Therefore, your worry about losing your friends is not true.”

Harry looked out the window at the frost-covered grounds.  “But Draco still got beat up.  A few of those people...they trusted me before.  Some were in Dumbledore’s Army!  And I don’t wonder what the tabloids will look like now.   _ The Chosen One Snogs Former Death Eater _ - _ Betrays all of Wizardkind _ .”

Healer Green sighed.  “Trust can be earned back, Harry.  Perhaps during your speech yesterday some of them could finally come to understand.  Though I know you shouldn’t have to explain yourself.  And I should also let you know that Professor McGonagall has prohibited journalists from publishing pictures and stories about Hogwarts students without their consent.”

“But the news is bound to get out.  I’m sure it already has,” he groaned.  “If not by now, everyone will talk over Christmas break.  It’s only a couple weeks off.”

“Harry, there have been so many articles and papers and even books written about you before you started this relationship with Draco.  I know you dealt with those admirably even as a fourteen-year-old during the Triwizard Tournament. Even as an eleven-year-old who knew next to nothing about our world, you were a celebrity.  But you’ve always gotten through all the rumors and comments and hatred aimed at you.  That is a 100% success rate.  You can get through this.  And if you need to come vent to me about it every single day, you can do that.  But don’t let people’s ignorance stop you from having a happy relationship,” Healer Green replied.  “All you need to worry about in your relationship with Draco is you and Draco.”

Anxiety still bubbled through Harry’s psyche, but he would try to keep what Healer Green said in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and kudos and support. Please continue to let me know what you think. It really does help.


	22. Hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys and their friends just want a day out with no issues. But nothing's ever that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> I'm back! I had already resolved (at least to myself) to try to keep a more regular upload schedule from now on when I uploaded the last chapter, but a lot of things happened (two funerals, a birth, and several orchestra rehearsals) in the last couple weeks so it was a while before I had enough energy to write again.
> 
> You guys are so awesome at putting up with my crazy upload schedule. Thanks for that.

  1.  Hogsmeade



 

It was not easy, those next couple weeks.  While a few of the people who had been part of the angry mob had directly apologized, having believed what Harry said in his speech, the school still gossiped about Harry and Draco’s relationship, questioning both of their motives and even a few making jeers about their sexualities, though Hogwarts was generally more accepting than the outside world.  Any time it got too overwhelming, Harry and/or Draco reported to Healer Green, who talked them through it or just let them sit in her office until they could face the world again. 

Despite all of this, they both felt relieved when it was finally time for a Hogsmeade trip.  Harry, Draco, and their friends had spent most of their free time in the library studying in order to avoid confrontation.  While people would still try to start things anywhere else on the grounds, they were more frightened of Madam Pince’s wrath than hungry for vengeance.  Harry of course also had Quidditch practice, which helped him get some much-needed time in fresh air, but that only did so much for his cabin fever, especially because he still had to go to that tension-ridden Eighth Year dorm at the end of the day.  

There was still an issue about how to spend their time at Hogsmeade, though.

“I don’t think we should go to the Three Broomsticks,” Harry said.  “Everyone goes there.  I’d...rather not be where everyone is right now.” 

“Well, I’d probably go to the Hog’s Head anyway,” Neville shrugged.  “Haven’t talked to Ab in a while.  I hope he’s doing well.”

Draco looked sheepish.  “Do you think he’ll allow  _ me _ in?”

Harry put a reassuring hand on Draco’s back.  

“Don’t worry about it, Draco.  Ab isn’t one to turn people away, even if he is a bit gruff.  Just...don’t say anything about the dishware.  But...doing a silent  _ scourgify _ might make you feel better,” he grinned.

“Harry!” Hermione scolded.  She had just sent a quick Patronus message with the location to Ron, who had already said he’d be in Hogsmeade that day.

Seamus and Dean shrugged.  

“But seriously, mate, do it while he isn’t looking,” Seamus whispered.

Draco forgot what Seamus said, though, because he was too busy being astounded that Seamus was even talking to him.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Aberforth Dumbledore was already on the receiving end of one of Luna’s lectures about some creature or another when they arrived.  Harry ordered a round of butterbeers and the group sat down at the bar.  

Neville detoured the conversation with Aberforth into something Ab found more interesting, and the old man even cracked a smile once in a while (although he did scowl once at Draco, who had not heeded Seamus’s advice).  Ron showed up almost immediately after they did and told stories about his Auror internship (Draco would not admit it, but he was highly impressed at Ron’s accomplishments thus far).

It was a good time, until a gaggle of people with magical cameras and Quick Quotes Quills stumbled into the pub and started snapping pictures and asking questions, some more harsh than others.

“Mr. Potter, have you and Draco Malfoy been secretly in a relationship this whole time?”

“Mr. Potter, have you turned to the Dark Arts?”

“Mr. Malfoy, have you Imperioused Mr. Potter into being a relationship with you?”

“Ms. Granger, can’t you knock some sense into Mr. Potter?”

“Enough!” shouted Aberforth, pushing the people out of his pub both physically and with magic.  “I do not allow paparazzi in my establishment!”

When their interrupters finally left, Harry and Draco were still clinging to each other, shaking.  Neither Harry nor Draco realized that they had been since the door burst open.

Dean put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.  “It’s okay.  They won’t be back  Ab will have blocked their way in by now.  He’s very good at charms that keep certain types of people away.”

At long last the shaking stopped and Harry felt secure enough to loosen his grip on Draco.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, hanging his head.  “I hope I didn’t ruin your business for the day, Mr. uh...Mr. Dumbledore.  Thank you for making those people go away.”

Ab waved a hand and shushed Draco.  “My name is Aberforth or Ab.  And don’t bother apologizing.  People only come here to get away from people and it ruins my business when that sort tries to come in.  Scares my regulars off.”

Neville rolled his eyes.  “Ab means you’re welcome.  But we really should get back to the castle.  It’s getting dark and they’ll be expecting us.”

Draco raised an eyebrow as the others stood up.  “Back out into that pack of wolves? Now?”

Hermione sighed and pulled Draco to his feet.  “I suppose that you should find this out sooner or later,” she said, pulling him towards Ariana’s portrait.

Ariana stared wordlessly at Draco for a moment before uncovering the secret passage back into the castle.

Harry could visibly see something click in Draco’s brain.

“Oh.  This...explains a lot,” Draco said as he stepped through behind Hermione, followed by Harry.

They had all gotten back into the castle without arousing any suspicion as to how they got back, but already a special edition of some wizarding tabloid had arrived in the Great Hall via owl post with a photo of Harry and Draco clinging to each other on the front page.  McGonagall was visibly upset and was in the process of confiscating every single copy.

Harry and Draco decided to skip eating dinner in the Great Hall.  

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Still wary about the safety of their dorm, Harry and Draco slipped down to the kitchens to find something to eat.  While the House Elves threw anxious looks at Draco, none of them wanted to disappoint Harry and the two boys soon had a sizable platter of food in front of them.

After eating what they could (they didn’t really have much of an appetite after what had all happened but still knew they needed nourishment after having nothing but butterbeer that day), they decided to swing by the Room of Requirement again.

This time, there was a bed inside it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa! What's that at the end there? Foreshadowing? Yep, you bet.
> 
> So, the rating for the next chapter will be EXPLICIT. ( *gasp* )
> 
> If you do not want to read sexually explicit (but very much consensual) scenes, be warned that the next chapter is not for you. It will likely be a few days before that chapter is even up, but I still wanna warn you.


	23. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco's first time together. A little awkward, a little fluffy, just...some solace from everything else happening in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter is EXPLICIT. If you do not want to read anything with explicit sexual scenes, please ignore this chapter. I will not judge. You will not be missing any major plot if you do.
> 
>  
> 
> That being said, this is my first time writing an entire smut scene on my own and I know I probably threw a few cliches in there, but whatever, it's more the emotional feeling of it all that counts (in my opinion).

  1. Solace



 

Harry stood there looking at the bed, dumbfounded and blushing.  Had he meant to broadcast that particular feeling to the Room of Requirement?  He thought he had asked for a place to rest for him and Draco where nobody else could bother them, like always, but this time the room provided a bed rather than its standard comfy chairs and sofas.  Not for the first time, Harry wished he was better at Occlumency...Or did he?  As he thought about it more, that funny feeling in his chest he had once felt with Ginny started again and started spreading its warmth and restlessness throughout the rest of his body.

Moonlight streamed through the impossible windows of the room, lighting up Draco’s pale skin.  He also seemed to be at a loss for words, for once.  

“Uh...what did you do?” Draco finally asked, fiddling with his tie, which suddenly seemed a little too tight.

“Me?  I didn’t do anything!  I only asked the room the same thing I always do!” Harry retorted.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious!” Harry insisted. “I asked it to be a place to rest where we couldn’t be bothered!”

“I guess it took ‘resting’ differently this time,” Draco replied.

“Must have,” Harry nodded.

It was silent for a moment.

“Maybe I had been thinking about that last time we were in here,” Harry confessed.  “Maybe I wanted to finish what we started,” he gulped.

Draco took Harry’s hands and pulled him closer.  “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“It’s...it’s not like I’m a virgin or anything,” Harry admitted, “but last time was with Ginny and it was great and all but you’ve got a different kind of body and...and...I REALLY don’t want to mess anything up with you.  But you...would you be ready?”

Draco rolled his eyes and kissed Harry softly on the lips.  “Harry, I was ready last time we started snogging in this room.  Just relax,” he hummed as he pulled Harry towards the bed.  “If you don’t feel comfortable with anything we’re doing, just tell me to stop.  Promise me you will.”

Harry nodded dumbly and let Draco lay him down on the bed.  Though he was nervous, he didn’t want to stop.  Especially not with Draco giving him that look...his eyes dark and filled with love and lust.  He felt that too, for Draco.  Because of that, he knew it would be okay.  Better than okay.  So he succeeded in relaxing a little bit more.

Harry started kissing Draco again, going from somewhat chaste to full out snogging within a moment, grinding their hips together and breathing getting heavier.  Shaky hands pushed each other’s robes off and fumbled with their ties and shirts, discarding them on the floor in careless heaps.  By now, Harry had pinned Draco to the bed - something he honestly didn’t think would happen but by the look on Draco’s face it was one that Draco approved.  

Harry shivered, despite the room being warm with the heat of a roaring fireplace.  “I want you,” he whispered as he undid Draco’s trousers slowly, feeling the growing hardness underneath.  

Draco’s sharp intake of breath made Harry grow harder too.  A moan escaped him as Draco mirrored his movements and freed Harry from his trousers.  There was an awkward moment as they both kicked their trousers and boxers off, but they sort of laughed it off.  

Then there was another little awkward moment as Harry crawled over Draco to retrieve his wand from the bedside table, but Draco couldn’t help but giggle at Harry’s determination.

“I...looked up a lubrication spell,” Harry confessed.  “I tried it on myself and worked, but...are you okay with it?”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “Cast the spell, Harry.  It’s okay.”

Harry muttered the incantation under his breath, hoping his anxiety wouldn’t throw off the spell.   

One would have thought that by now Harry would have realized that he worked best under pressure.  But...eventually he realized that the spell worked perfectly as he started to slowly open up Draco’s entrance, and that lessened some of his anxiety.  Though he didn’t have a lot of experience in that department, Draco encouraged him with lots of exciting new sounds and little pieces of guidance here and there.

Eventually though, Draco grew impatient. 

“For fuck’s sake, Potter, just fuck me already,” he hissed, reaching below to grasp Harry’s cock.  

Harry gasped.

And then, he pushed into Draco with a sound almost like a whimper.  Draco moaned underneath him and kept pushing until Harry was fully sheathed inside him.

Harry took a moment for them to adjust before pulling back out and then rocking slowly back into Draco, leaning over to kiss him passionately as they gradually picked up their pace.

It was a time for firsts.  It was the first time Harry had ever heard Draco beg for anything, for one thing.  Harry had kept them at a leisurely but intense pace, going deeper as he gained confidence with his thrusts, but once Harry had grazed Draco’s prostate for the first time, Draco begged for deeper, faster, harder.  Hearing that voice coming from Draco, Harry found, was very, very hot.  

It didn’t last for very long, but neither of them really cared.  Draco came first, gasping out Harry’s name.  Immediately after, as Draco’s muscles tightened around him, Harry followed Draco into orgasm, muttering Draco’s name over and over again.

They lay there panting together for a moment, both covered in a thin sheen of sweat.  

A quick Scourgify later, they were cuddled up together, smiling sleepily and simply enjoying being in each other’s arms. 

Who knew what the next day or even the next hour would bring, but at least in that moment, between the two of them, everything was, for once, peaceful and perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Hope this chapter wasn't too awkward. I'm usually only responsible for half of the writing of scenes like this so...yeah
> 
> Anyway, I've got some ideas for the next few chapters but nothing written down yet. 
> 
> I continue to love and cherish all your comments and kudos. Thank you.


	24. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's getting to be winter at Hogwarts, and the holidays are coming soon. Where will Harry spend Christmas this year?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Sorry it took so long to post this (I know I'm sounding like a broken record at this point), but I just really had no energy between all that has been happening in my life lately. 
> 
> This is more of a transitional chapter, so not much happens, but you'll be able to tell where the story is going in the next chapter at least.

  1.  Where Do We Go From Here?



 

Harry and Draco accidentally stayed the night in the Room of Requirement.  Luckily the light streaming in the windows woke them up early enough to scramble to the Eighth Years’ dorm before breakfast.  

Everyone knew what they had been doing.  Justin merely scowled in disgust and muttered something under his breath before heading to breakfast as fast as he could to avoid them.  Everyone else either shrugged it off, looked concerned,or peeved, aside from Blaise, who had a look of mild amusement as he silently got dressed in his robes.

Draco shrugged at Harry and whispered: “They already thought we were shagging before, so they probably won’t make a big deal out of it unless they want to tattle that we weren’t in the dorm.”

Harry nodded.  “Justin was probably glad we weren’t here anyway.  But I’d check your bed for hexes and dungbombs if I were you,” he said, just before he cast  _ revelio _ on his own to make sure.  

It was clean, thank Merlin, but he would be vigilant about it for a while.

Being that it was a Sunday, the seating for meals in the Great Hall was more relaxed.  But there were still a few turned heads when Harry dragged Draco, who then dragged Blaise, over to the Gryffindor table.  Luna was already sitting there, next to Neville, transfiguring her Cheerios into more interesting shapes.  

It was one week till the holidays and people were discussing their plans. Everyone who could was leaving the school this year.  

Hermione, having located her parents after the whole war was over and having undone her memory charms on them, was bringing her parents to the Burrow for Christmas.  She was...cautiously optimistic.  The Grangers had liked Ron and the other Weasleys they had met, and they were always amazed and intrigued by magic, but Hermione was still concerned that they would become too overwhelmed.

Luna was taking some holiday in some tropic place somewhere with her father, who had written to her almost daily since she’d returned to Hogwarts.

Dean was eager to see his parents and siblings again.  

Seamus was thinking wistfully about the cuppa that his Mam would have waiting for him when he got home, and was also begging Dean to come over before the spring term started so they could hang out before being bogged down in homework.

Neville quietly said that he’d be spending his Christmas with his parents and his Gran like every year, with a small smile on his face.

Ginny, of course, was also heading back to the Burrow, and was currently reminiscing about sleeping in her own bed again.  

Harry hadn’t really thought about his own plans.  He had his own house to go back to, which was a new feeling.  But going back to a big, austere, empty Grimmauld Place seemed rather lonely.  He didn’t want to invite himself to spend Christmas with the Weasleys, knowing that by having a relationship with Draco that he probably created a new boundary that he never intended to create.  He looked over at Draco, who was frowning into his eggs.  Where would Draco go?  Would they even allow him back at Malfoy manor?

Once Ginny had finished with her breakfast she leaned on Harry’s shoulder.  “You up for some Quidditch practice?” she asked.  

There was no scheduled practice that day, because there were no more games until spring, but Ginny always liked working on her form during her free time.  Harry sometimes joined her during these times - she appreciated his input and a little bit of competition too.  Draco had been watching from the sidelines for the past few times.

“Sure.  Meet you there in fifteen,” he said with a smile. 

He was amazed that she still continued to be friends with him after all that had happened, but he was very grateful for it.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

 

They had to cast a few warming charms over themselves in order not to freeze in the snowy weather, but other than that, it was business as usual.  Harry and Ginny never had to hold back from each other when they were playing any variation of Quidditch together and anyone watching would have been as stunned by their skill and strength as Draco was when he watched them.  Draco was, of course, was skilled at Quidditch too, probably one of the top five at Hogwarts, but he knew that Ginny and Harry could easily go pro.

When Harry and Ginny finally landed, laughing and breathing hard, Draco was grinning from ear to ear as well. 

“For once I think Gryffindor might actually win the cup by skill instead of by luck,” he laughed, clapping a hand on both Harry’s and Ginny’s shoulders.  “Well done, Weasley.  You probably could have beaten me in half the time that it took Harry to do in my first match.   _ And  _ without getting hit by a bludger.”

He and Ginny laughed at Harry’s scowl.

As they headed towards the locker room, Ginny got between the boys and draped an arm around each of them.  

“You know you two are invited to the Burrow for Christmas, right?  Mum will cook enough for an army as always.  Even the ghoul in the attic will have enough for four helpings.”

“You’re sure that’s all right?” Harry asked.  “I don’t want to impose…”

She snorted.  “You’re family now, so shut it.  And Draco, Mum’s told me that...er...that your mother is invited too.”

“Er...thanks, Ginny,” Draco replied softly.  “I’ll tell her.”

 

…………………………………………………………………………………..

 

One week later, trunks were packed and they all headed onto the Hogwarts Express back to King’s Cross.  

Draco wasn’t going to Malfoy Manor.  He said it would bring up too many memories.  And his mother hadn’t yet replied to the invitation she’d gotten from Mrs. Weasley.  Not that Draco hadn’t expected something like that, but it still pained him in a way he couldn’t hide from Harry.

It was decided that Draco would spend the holidays with Harry, first at Grimmauld Place, and then Christmas Eve through Boxing Day at the Burrow with the Weasleys.  

It would certainly be different than previous years, that’s for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your kudos and kind comments. I do read them all.


	25. Winter Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin. With an unexpected visitor, of course.
> 
> I suppose I should give some sort of warning for mental illness and abuse for a tiny part of this chapter, but I'm not sure how to tag it completely without giving some spoilers. So I'm making you aware of it right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. I know it's been forever since I last updated, but I really wanted to do this chapter justice. It's a longer one and I didn't want to end it prematurely so it took several days to write compared to my usual one. I'm still not completely satisfied, but I couldn't put off posting this any longer.
> 
> I suppose I should give some sort of warning for mental illness and abuse for a tiny part of this chapter, but I'm not sure how to tag it completely without giving some spoilers. So I'm making you aware of it right here.

  1.  Winter Holidays



 

Grimmauld Place was different this time around.  Though Harry had worked pretty much all summer to make the place more habitable, he still felt a little embarrassed at the state it was in when he and Draco arrived there together.  Curtains were still moth-eaten, the rugs still threadbare, and everything seemed to attract dust even after multiple rounds of dusting charms. 

“So, er...home sweet home,” Harry said as they stepped into the entrance hallway.  “I know it’s a mess, and it’s not exactly cheery, but...it’s mine.”

“And that’s what matters,” Draco replied, with a grin, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips.  “Anyway, I think I remember being here as a child, and you’ve definitely made some improvements.  For one, those dreadful elf heads are gone...I had nightmares for weeks about those…”

Harry laughed.  “That...wasn’t actually my doing.  I think Kreacher took them somewhere and made some kind of shrine out of them.  Which is fine. I don’t see him a whole lot since I silenced his Mistress’s portrait.  I told him he could have the thing once I figure out how to unstick it from the wall.”

At this point Pip hooted pointedly, impatient to get out of his cage.  

“Oh!  Sorry Pip!” Harry said, quickly undoing the latch. 

Pip disappeared almost instantly, heading upstairs to go hunt the mice he knew would be there despite Harry’s best pest-control efforts.

Harry and Draco headed upstairs with their trunks as well.

Harry’s chosen bedroom was near Sirius’s room.  It had once belonged to Regulus Black. One wall was full of bookshelves.  Another had floor-length windows and a door that led out to a small but sturdy balcony.  And there was also the massive four-poster bed with a ridiculous amount of pillows. Harry told Draco to sit on the bed while he unpacked their clothes and put them into a large ebony chest of drawers. 

“So...I’m not a bad cook.  What do you want for dinner?” Harry asked as he put away their clothes.

Draco shrugged, eyeing the room with some interest.  At school, Harry was extremely tidy and kept all his possessions in order.  In his own room, that wasn’t so. Open books were splayed all over the desk, an inkwell had created a stain on the wood of his nightstand at some point, and a few dirty socks had escaped the laundry bin and lay scattered across the floor.  

Draco briefly wondered if he would be the same way.  He didn’t know. He’d always had house-elves cleaning up after him.  He knew that Harry had been forced to be tidy as a child, that had been almost a house-elf to the Dursleys.  Draco wondered how long it took Harry to realize that he didn’t have to keep everything so ship-shape all the time and whether he felt any guilt over it.

“Well,” Harry said, “I think I should have some ingredients for spaghetti bolognese still...it’s simple but I’d have to go to the shops if I wanted something else.  Would you want to go out to eat instead? There’s a good American-style diner a few blocks away.”

“I think I’d rather stay in,” Draco finally answered.  “You could teach me how to cook. Even if it is simple.  Because...well...I can’t cook anything.

“Okay,” Harry smiled.  “I didn’t feel like going out tonight anyway.  I’ll take you to the shops tomorrow.”

Draco turned out to be a model student when he wanted to be.  He followed directions and asked questions about things when he didn’t understand why something had to be done.  

They ate, snuggled by the fire and talked until it was very late.

And they christened the bed that night, without a care in the world for how loud they were.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Shopping with Draco in the muggle world was like taking a kid to the zoo for the first time.  He didn’t know how to act around muggles - he kept staring at them as if his cover would be blown at any second.  He was puzzled at all of the different breakfast cereals and cartoony mascots on the food packaging. All of the produce was  _ boring _ .  And he didn’t quite understand how Harry could pay for things with a little plastic card that he  _ didn’t even let the cashiers keep _ .  Was Harry doing some sort of Confundus charm?  No. Harry just rolled his eyes and said he would explain later.

The days leading up to Christmas followed that sort of pattern most of the time.  They’d go out somewhere non-magical, Harry exposing Draco to the wonders he’d missed out on by being sheltered by the wizarding world (most of that being so many new kinds of foods).  On the weekend, they stayed in, but Hermione and Ron dropped by and they had a genuinely good time, listening to Ron’s Auror training stories and playing chess and Exploding Snap.

A couple days before Christmas, they went to go visit Teddy and Andromeda.  Draco protested at first, saying that he didn’t want to make them uncomfortable, but Harry wouldn’t take no for an answer, saying that Andromeda would be happy to see both of them.

Draco couldn’t deny that Harry was right.  She told Draco right away to knock off that guilt complex right away and just skip to the part where they’re just having a family get-together.  Teddy was starting to look at picture books by now, and amused himself by transforming himself to resemble the farm animals in his favorite book (though they all had that shock of blue-green hair he favored).  That kid had Draco’s heart instantly. Teddy and Harry and Draco played and ran around until Teddy couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. 

“Don’t forget, you two, you are welcome here at any time,” Andromeda said, giving them both one-armed hugs as she held the sleeping toddler in the other arm.  “See you at the Burrow on Christmas.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Harry woke up on Christmas Eve to Draco kissing him softly.  

“Morning, Potter,” he smirked. 

Despite the smirk, Harry knew that Draco was nervous about heading to the Burrow that day.  He had tossed and turned all night, repeatedly waking Harry up in the process. At one point, he had started re-packing their clothes for their short stay with the Weasleys, over-analyzing every piece of clothing.

“Morning to you, too,” Harry yawned, stretching.  “Ugh, I need a shower. Join me?”

Despite their shower shenanigans, Draco didn’t seem much more relaxed as they got dressed.  

“Hey,” Harry whispered, resting his forehead against Draco’s.  “It’s going to be fine. They invited me AND you. If they didn’t want you there, they wouldn’t have done that.  C’mon, Molly’s probably wondering why we aren’t at breakfast yet.”

A few minutes later, they had apparated to the Burrow and had a mountain of food each placed in front of them.

Despite his initial nervousness, Draco managed to gradually relax.  Ginny started a conversation with him about Quidditch, and Ron quickly jumped in, and pretty soon Draco had eaten more breakfast food in one sitting than he had in his entire life.  

While Harry caught up with the rest of the Weasleys, Draco helped Molly with the dishes.

“I wanted to thank you for inviting me here, Mrs. Weasley,” he said softly. 

Molly smiled.  “You’re very welcome, Draco.  Did you ever get any answer from your mother about tomorrow?” she asked.

Draco shook his head.  “I haven’t heard anything from her since before I started school again.”

“Ah,” she sighed.  “That’s too bad. Nobody should spend the holidays alone.  But I am glad you’re here. Harry hasn’t looked so cheerful in a long time.  It’s like he’s almost his old self again.”

Draco was silent for a moment before saying  “I still don’t understand...after all I’ve put your family through...after all my family has put yours through…I don’t deserve even to stand in this room with you.”

Molly hesitated slightly before reaching over and squeezing Draco’s shoulder affectionately.  

“Perhaps we should be less concerned about who deserves what and more concerned about acting with kindness towards other people.  From what I have seen and heard about you since the war, you’ve tried your best to be kind. You’re studying to become a healer, aren’t you?  Hermione told me that you saved a Gryffindor girl’s life at the beginning of term. You had nothing to gain by helping her, and yet you did. And you’ve helped Harry in ways that his other friends never could.  You know I consider Harry to be another son of mine, and you’re helping him heal, Draco. So that’s why. You’re taking care of my family. And therefore, it’s only right that I take care of you.”

Before Draco realized what he was doing, he had Mrs. Weasley in a tight embrace.  She seemed as surprised as he was, but that didn’t stop her from returning the hug.

What was he doing?  He’d never been very touchy and affectionate towards his own family.  He couldn’t recall the last time he had ever hugged his father or if indeed he ever had.  And while he did remember hugging his mother as a child, as he grew older, those seemed to stop.  But a hug from Molly Weasley just felt...right. Like everything would be okay.

When they separated Harry was standing in the doorway, looking at the two with a curious look on his face, a combination of sadness and happiness that he wasn’t sure could be explained.  

“Everything okay?” he asked, going up to rub Draco’s back.  When had Draco started crying? The blond hadn’t noticed until now and now he flushed with embarrassment.  

“Everything’s fine.  You two go run along before I make you de-gnome the garden,” Molly said, waving them off.  

The rest of that day was a blur.  For most of the remaining daylight Harry, Ron, George, Draco, Bill, Ginny, and Charlie played a very competitive game of backyard Quidditch in the freezing cold, with Hermione, Fleur, and Mr. Weasley cheering them on.  There were numerous hot chocolate and snack breaks, of course. Mrs. Weasley, Percy, and Penelope Clearwater (who had been hanging around Percy more and more often lately) continued to cook up a storm and by evening there was another mountain of food for each hungry belly.

After that, rounds of butterbeer were poured and games of Exploding Snap and Gobstones ensued.  George was particularly smug when he won a game of the latter and succeeded in making one of the pieces gob grossly all over Draco.  Ginny and Ron got into a row over Exploding snap, and Hermione rolled her eyes while making small talk with Fleur and Bill. Harry was retelling Charlie (for what seemed like the thousandth time) the story of how he, Ron, and Hermione had escaped Gringotts on the dragon.  Charlie always had new questions every time, and this time he asked Harry about the differences he noticed between the Gringott’s dragon, the Horntail he had escaped in the Triwizard Tournament, and Norberta (formerly known as Norbert). Arthur and Molly giggled and flirted and reminisced about their younger years as they sat near the fire, watching all of the people they loved be in the same room for once.  Yes, the Weasleys all had their scuffles and quirks, but there was love there.

For the first time, Draco felt like he finally realized what family was all about.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Draco woke up to sounds of pitter-pattering little Teddy feet running through the front door of the Burrow, followed by screams of delight when the toddler saw the stack of presents twice as high as his head.  

Merlin, he loved that kid.

He stretched and sat up from his camp bed that was on the floor of Percy’s room.  He rubbed his eyes and saw that the third-oldest Weasley had already gotten up. 

He hadn’t protested at the room arrangements the night before.  Percy kept to himself, being polite as ever, though even Draco could tell he missed Penelope.  Harry and Ron had time to catch up while they stayed in Ron’s room together, and Draco was too exhausted anyway to stay awake.

But now, Draco was wide awake.  He dressed did his morning routine quickly and met up with sleepy-eyed Harry on the stairs, giving him a peck on the cheek before challenging his bespectacled boyfriend to a race down the stairs.  Neither boy won, but they were laughing by time they both got to the bottom step.

As he watched Teddy open his presents, Draco remembered previous Christmases he had spent back at Malfoy Manor and inwardly cringed at how spoiled rotten he had been.  He always got the best toys, the best clothes, and a perfectly catered Christmas dinner, but always had something to complain about. These robes were the wrong color, or he hadn’t wanted that particular toy, or the dessert wasn’t what he had in mind. 

Teddy wasn’t like that.  He was happy with even the simplest of toys and even a pair of socks.  But Draco couldn’t help the pride he felt when Teddy squealed with delight over the present he and Harry had picked out for the kid: a mirror-like device that spat out splashes of color when you slid your fingers across it.

Draco hadn’t expected any presents, and was perfectly content just being there, sitting next to Harry.  But a simple brown paper package was handed to him while the others looked at him with a knowing smile. It was a genuine Weasley sweater, made to resemble a Healer’s official robes.  He fell in love with it instantly. 

As the whole house, all wearing their respective sweaters, got up and ready to eat the marvelous Christmas dinner Molly had crafted, there was a knock at the door.

Mr. Weasley went up to the door with a look of confusion on his face, but opened the door nonetheless.

“Narcissa.  Merry Christmas.  Would you like to come inside?  We were just about to have ourselves a little feast,” he said.

He didn’t know why, but Draco’s stomach dropped when he saw his mother.  Harry, sensing Draco’s anxiety, grasped Draco’s hand reassuringly as Narcissa silently sat down next to her son at the table.

Molly’s cooking proved good enough to lessen the tension a little.  As did Teddy getting gravy and potatoes in his hair. Even Narcissa cracked a smile at that.  It was as if some kind of silencing charm had broken then, making everyone comfortable enough to banter as usual again.

“You didn’t have hair until you were about two, but you were just as messy as him,” she said to Draco.  “The house-elves needed to levitate to reach the stains on the ceiling.”

Harry snickered.  “I could see that.  By the way he was wrapping presents a couple days ago, I’m surprised the whole Manor wasn’t covered in spello-tape.”

“Oi!” Draco retorted, elbowing Harry.  “I wrapped presents beautifully. Even Fleur said so.”

“At the expense of the entire living room of Grimmauld Place,” Harry laughed.

Soon places were cleared for everyone to relax before dessert, and everyone broke off into little groups of conversation.

“I’m terribly sorry that I didn’t reply to your owl, Draco,” Narcissa said earnestly.  “I thought that I would be spending Christmas with your father until yesterday. He...isn’t doing well.  The dementors are gone from Azkaban, but I fear he is still losing his mind. He didn’t recognize me. He thought I was some sort of spy and...he struck me.  The wardens decided it was best that I didn’t visit again for some time.”

“Mother,” Draco said, “I...” and proceeded to embraced her.  She stiffened at first, but then softened and hugged back.

“I’ve missed you, Draco,” Narcissa said once she released Draco from the hug.

“I’ve missed you too, Mother,” Draco murmured.  “I thought...I thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore.  The papers talking about me and Harry...I thought I’d be a disgrace to you.  To the Malfoy name.”

“It did take me some time to understand,” she admitted.  “I thought you would end up courting that Astoria Greengrass girl...or perhaps even that Blaise Zabini.  Their families are powerful, you know. I thought they would be good matches. Secure the Malfoy name as respectable once again.  But I eventually realized that playing chess with such alliances may have been the cause of all of our family’s troubles in the first place.  I came to the conclusion that the most important thing about you dating someone is that you are loved and safe. Who is safer to be with than the boy who lived to defeat the Dark Lord?  And he was willing to defend you and risk his reputation by doing so. So how could I condemn your relationship?”

“Does Father know?” Draco asked softly.

“I’m not certain,” she answered.  “There are newspapers in Azkaban, but I don’t know if he has the capacity of mind to read and understand the things that are in them.  I’m told that mind healers will attempt to talk to him, but there are no certainties about recovery yet. Even if he recovers his mind, even if he disapproves, I want you to know that you are always going to be the Malfoy heir.  When you were born, you became connected to ancient and powerful blood magic far beyond our understanding. Your father could not change that if he tried. You can always come home, Draco. When you feel that you want to, that is.  I know it’s difficult to think about right now, but when you’re ready, I will be too.”

Narcissa turned to Harry.  “I want to thank you, Harry.  Thank you for keeping Draco out of prison.  Thank you for giving him a chance. And thank you for loving him when he needed it the most.”

She produced two boxes from her pocket and gave one to both Harry and Draco.  Inside were matching amulets. Stags made out of silver. Apparently she  _ had _ gotten the letter Draco had sent her about finally being successful at casting a patronus.  The boys grinned and immediately put their amulets around their necks.

“The silver brick these were made from was in the family vault for years.  It had once belonged to an alchemist. The amulet maker said that she had never seen such magic infused into silver before.  She didn’t know the complexities behind the magic, but she did find that it was meant for protection of some sort,” Narcissa explained.

Harry and Draco thanked her and gave her a gift box in return that contained one of the Black family heirlooms; a beautiful platinum and diamond necklace.  More awkward hugs ensued.

At this point, Molly and Percy had set up dessert.  Narcissa had brought an impressive treacle tart, which fit in nicely with the wide array of desserts the Weasleys had made.  

As it grew darker outside, Draco’s mother announced that with regret she must return to the Manor, and thanked the Weasleys profusely for opening their home to her and to Draco.

Teddy, who had been running on Christmas adrenaline, crashed around the same time, and Andromeda said she would have to take him home and put him to bed.  

That night was much like the night before, playing games and getting up to shenanigans with the gifts George had given everyone from the joke shop.  

Curled up next to each other on the sofa, Harry and Draco couldn’t have been happier.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The next morning as Harry and Draco said their goodbyes, Mrs. Weasley insisted on giving them enough leftovers to feed them for a month and implored them to visit as soon as they had the chance.  

“But not before you’ve got your N.E.W.T.s, of course,” she explained.  “School comes first. You two are entirely too close to slack off now. Don’t make me have to have Hermione keep you in line,” she winked.

Harry chuckled.  “We’ll be good, Molly.  And thank you for everything.  Really,” he said, hugging her goodbye.

“Yes,” Draco added.  “We can’t thank you enough.”

 

Harry and Draco had a feeling that this holiday was the first of many to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah...aside from that business with Lucius, a nice happy lil chapter for you all. Well...not so lil. Probably my longest chapter yet. Oh well. Hope you liked it. I always want to hear from you and I'm always glad for your feedback. Thanks for reading. There is more to come.


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